Loveless
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: What happens when one who has been without love for so long, at last manages to find it, but is to afraid to say anything? Then,what if someone else gets in the way, making it impossible for the person without love to truly find it? Slash warning! WxS WxL
1. Mr Logan

**Title: **Loveless

**Author: **IndigoNight

**Summary: **What happens when one who has been without love for so long, at last manages to find it, but is to afraid to say anything? Then, what if someone else gets in the way, making it impossible for the person without love to truly find it?

**Feedback: **Yes please, YAY reviews!

**Pairings:** WarrenxScott, WarrenxLogan 

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X-Men or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.

**Spoilers: **Very mild for X3, but mostly AU

**Rating: **R for graphic rape and violence

**Warnings: **Slash, if you don't like, don't read; also some serious angst, rape and suicide warning. Seriously AU

**Author's Note: **OK, so, first of all, yeah, in the movies, Scott dies, but that just didn't work for me, so this is AU, but the only difference is that instead of going and getting himself killed, Scott just sits in his room on his little pity-pot and cries the whole movie, so he's still alive. Alright, so that said, this is just something that popped into my head and I ran with, so, lets hope you all like running with me, have fun.

**Enjoy!**

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Loveless – One without love 

Love, what is that? Warren could not even pretend to know. Sure, it was all over in the movies, on T.V., in books, it was everywhere. And it was always the same, boy meets girl, something gets in their way, blah blah blah, insert various dramatic plotlines, and in the end their love over comes all and they live happily ever after.

Bull shit.

Warren had never felt love, of any kind, or at least, he didn't think he had, not know what love was.

One thing he did know, he had never gotten any from his parents. His mother had died when he was very young and his step mom only ever acknowledged his existence when she was drunk. His father was rarely around, but when he was he wasn't much different, his only apparent interest in his son was in "curing" his "disease", his mutation. Also his father, ashamed of his freak son, had kept Warren mostly hidden away in their vast estates, so that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was practically nonexistent.

Now he was free from that, he had gotten tired of it and left, come to a place where he wasn't a freak. But he was still nonexistent. He was shy, and rarely spoke, never did outside of class. At first a few people had tried to talk to him, but quickly they just stopped. He didn't try to drive them away, he just didn't know how to talk to people; how to be someone's friend, and so he'd learned to live alone.

However there was one ray of light in his dark world, one solitary shaft of joy, and that light had just entered the Dinning Hall.

Warren dropped his piece of toast and left it there completely forgotten, unable to prevent himself from staring.

Those strong arms, intense eyes, firm jaw line, he just couldn't help himself. Mr. Logan, so strong and brooding, he never laughed, and rarely smiled, but those few flashes Warren had caught were the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

He was still covertly watching the easy, smooth movements Mr. Logan made as he ate his breakfast. Even his mind, well, the sane part of it anyway, knew that this was stupid and crazy; Mr. Logan didn't even know he existed, and even if he did… well, he was just being stupid holding on to these fantasies. But he couldn't help it.

He nearly fell out of his seat in surprise when the bell rang calling the students to the first class of the day; he had been so busy watching Mr. Logan that he had completely lost track of time.

The rest of the day past in a blur of monotony, the only highlights being lunch, when he could watch Mr. Logan eat some more, and the three times he past Mr. Logan in the hallways, when he could watch him walk, specifically, though it made him blush just to think about it, Mr. Logan's particularly fine ass.

"Mr. Worthington?" Professor Scott asked. It was the last class of the day, and Warren had just seen Mr. Logan pass by on his way to the classroom.

He jumped; he had been doodling absently, not at all paying attention to the professor's lecture. Three guesses on who's particularly fine ass he had been daydreaming about.

"Yes, sir?" he asked guiltily, his head snapping up.

"I asked, what is the third stage of mitosis?" the professor repeated.

"Um… Metaphase," he said. He heard several sniggers from the rest of the class and sank into his seat, blushing like mad.

"No, it is actually Anaphase," the professor corrected.

Warren spent the rest of the class passionately wishing he had never been born. He had never answered a question wrong before, he was a good student with straight A's, but then again, that was when Mr. Logan wasn't on his mind.

He jumped to his feet quickly and practically ran for the door when the bell rang. Mr. Logan liked to eat dinner early, and therefore, so did Warren. However his escape was thwarted when Professor Scott called his name, making him freeze at the door. He stood back, waiting impatiently while the rest of the class filed out.

Professor Scott waited until the rest of the class was gone before crossing the room to where Warren still stood.

"Are you alright, Warren?" he asked.

Warren smiled on the outside, but frowned on the inside, not used to anyone, especially this teacher, taking an interest in his well-being, "You seem rather distracted."

"Fine," he said quickly, his fake, diplomatic smile firmly in place; "I just didn't get much sleep last night." _Because I couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Logan_ was the part he didn't say.

Professor Scott nodded and put a friendly smile, "Well, try to get more rest, and remember, if you ever need anything, I'm always here."

Warren nodded and with another hasty smile fled through the door.

He practically ran through the halls to the Dining Hall. For some reason he didn't like Professor Scott, it wasn't like he was a bad teacher or anything, he made him uncomfortable. He hadn't even been teaching when Warren had first arrived, but about a month later Head Mistress Storm had made the announcement that Professor Scott would be returning to teaching, so he assumed that he wasn't new. And anyway, he hated it when people pulled him aside to talk to like that, it made him feel awkward and uncomfortable.

But the incident left his mind completely when he entered the Dining Hall to find Mr. Logan already seated and eating. Quickly he grabbed his diner and found a seat with a prime view.

Over all, not a bad day.


	2. Professor Scott

**Hey all, so here's chapter two. Sorry its kinda short, but the good stuff is coming soon I promise. Big thanks endiahna for reviewing. Enjoy!**

The next few days past without event of great notice. Warren spent his time sleeping, dreaming about Mr. Logan, eating, watching Mr. Logan eat, doing homework, daydreaming about Mr. Logan, etc., normal kid stuff. Everything was just fine, until Friday came.

Sometime late Thursday night Warren woke from a rather embarrassing dream, involving Mr. Logan… and no clothes. To clear his mind he had decided to go out for a fly. After flying around the school grounds several times, Warren at last settled down in a low tree branch and got comfortable, not yet ready to go back inside.

Next thing he knew the first class bell was ringing and he nearly fell out of the tree in surprise. Damn, now he was going to be late.

He spent the entire morning longing for lunch, mostly because he had missed breakfast, and therefore hadn't yet seen Mr. Logan that day.

Lunch finally came, and went, with no Mr. Logan. This wasn't an unheard of thing, Mr. Logan did every so often miss meals, for various reasons, but Warren still wished he could have seen him.

The afternoon was many long, monotonous hours of tedium.

At last it was his final class of the day, Biology with Professor Scott, oh joy. His only happy thought in this was that dinner was next and maybe Mr. Logan would be back.

For some reason it seemed as though Professor Scott had been paying more attention to him in the past week, and it made him uncomfortable. Not really anything big, but asking him more questions than usual, and, unless Warren was just being paranoid, the professor also seemed to hang over his shoulder to look at his work more than anyone else in the class.

Warren usually just tried his best to ignore it and fled the classroom to dinner as quickly as possible.

There it was, finally, the bell. Warren jumped to his feet and dashed for the door, his bag already packed in anticipation.

"Mr. Worthington?"

Damn! His escape thwarted Warren stopped and watched as the rest of his class filed out.

"Yes, professor?" he asked politely when they were alone.

"I just wanted to talk to you about your Albinism report," Professor Scott said, motioning for Warren to join him by his desk at the front of the room.

"Was there something wrong with it?" Warren asked quickly, afraid that there was.

"No, no, it was great," the Professor assured him, "I was just hoping to discuss it with you."

"Oh well," somehow Warren didn't think that Albinism was what the Professor wanted to talk about, but maybe he was crazy for it, "Could we maybe talk about it later? I'm sorry, but I missed lunch and I'm starved, plus I have a load of homework tonight," Warren began to back away slowly, he really didn't like not being able to see Professor Scott's eyes, it made reading his emotions a lot harder.

"I like you, Warren," Professor Scott said suddenly.

"P-professor?" Warren stuttered, surprised, confused and a little scared, his face very red.

Warren trembled slightly, "I'm sorry Professor," he said quietly, "My heart already belongs to someone else."

"I _want_ you," his voice was low, deep, and dangerous, as he suddenly shoved Warren back against the wall, "And I get what I want young man," he hissed, then he leaned forward and attacked Warren's lips with his own, kissing him so hard that his lips bruised.

Warren gasped and began to struggle, nearly choking on Scott's tongue. Finally he managed to break free and he ran. He ran as fast as he could, right past the Dining Hall, and out of the front doors, spreading his wings as he ran.

Once airborne he flew in huge circles around and around the school ground, so high up he was practically in the clouds. His mind was whirling; Professor Scott had just kissed him!

A kiss, his first kiss! In all of his fantasies about how it would happen, it had never been like that. He'd always imagined it as being slow and sweet, not… not violent and painful like that had been, and _never_ from Professor Scott!

His lips still throbbed, he could still taste Professor Scott, and it made him want to throw up. After several minutes of flying, the memory revolving around and around in his head, he landed and did throw up.

Once he was done he curled up in the top most branch a tall tree and wrapping his arms around himself, he began to cry.


	3. The Staircase

**Hey all, here's chapter three. Big thanks to my faithful reviewers endiahna and elfchic02.**

**Enjoy!**

Warren spent most of the next day doing his best to avoid Professor Scott, and people in general. Mostly he flew around above the school or hung out in the treetops. He liked trees, they were comfortable, and if he positioned himself just right no one would ever know he was there.

Sometime after lunch he left his trees and wandered into the rafters of the school garage. It was a lofty room and perched as he was someone would have to look very carefully to see him in the shadows. Mr. Logan was there, hence the reason he stayed.

Mr. Logan was working on his bike and Warren couldn't help but notice the small tuft of chest hair that was sticking out from the top of Mr. Logan's wife beat, it was extremely attractive.

Warren was just settling more comfortably in the rafts for a long afternoon of Mr. Logan watching, when he froze, Professor Scott had just entered the room.

Mr. Logan grunted a greeting, which Professor Scott returned, before heading off to the other end of the garage to work on one of the other numerous vehicles housed there.

Warren nearly died of fear when he could have sworn the he saw Professor Scott look up just as he was passing under the particular part of the shadows the young mutant happened to be occupying. But the professor continued on without a word and Warren relaxed, assuming that he hadn't seen him.

The rest of the day passed without event and at times Warren even managed to forget that Professor Scott was even there.

8

Warren sighed. More brooding, he was really making a habit of it. It was after dinner and he had retreated to his favorite perch, the top of the old fire escape out back of the school.

The sun was just beginning to set as he stood, deciding it was time to go inside. It was the beginning of November and there was a chill in the air, which sadly didn't go well with his habit of going shirtless.

He was just turning away from the sunset when a pleasant voice behind him at the foot of the stairs made him freeze in his tracks.

"Hello again," was the cheerful greeting. Slowly Warren turned, a politely blank smile plastered on his face.

"Professor Scott," he said nodding as he tried to hurry down the stairs past him. But the older man met him half way down, blocking his way. "Um, it was nice seeing you professor, but I have homework," he faltered, trying once again to escape by pushing past the man.

"Warren," Scott said, grabbing his wrist and stopping him, "I trust you remember what I said yesterday?"

"And I trust, you remember my response," Warren returned, trying valiantly to ignore the painful pounding in his heart, "Now if you please, I have homework." He tried to pull his arm away from Scott, but the older man held him firmly. "Let go," he said, the fear now rising to his voice.

"As I said," Scott told him, his tone hard and deadly, "I get what I want."

"Not when its me," Warren hissed.

"I see, well, I'm sorry if that's your final answer, but I would reconsider if I were you," Scott said mildly.

"Yeah? And why would I do that?" Warren demanded.

"Oh nothing, I would just hate for something to happen to your precious Mr. Logan," a cruel, inane grin spread slowly across Scott's face as he saw the look of horror that filled Warren's wide eyes.

"You wouldn't… hurt him," Warren almost pleaded, his breath catching in his chest.

"Now Warren, I'm a sane man," Scott said, a false, sickly sweet tone slipping into his voice, "But I do have a rather unmanageable temper, and if I was to be angered enough, well, I'm afraid there's just no telling what I might do."

Warren searched his face desperately, and found not even the faintest glimmer of hope for a way out. Slowly he lowered his eyes, swallowing hard.

Neither of them said another word. Professor Scott moved in closer, gently running a hand through Warren's short, spiked hair. Warren closed his eyes as Scott pushed him down on the stairs behind him, his lips attacking the winged mutant's. And slowly, as Scott's hands worked their way down to the waistline of Warren's jeans, a single tear slipped out from under Warren's tightly closed eyelid.

8

Sometime later, Warren wasn't even sure how long; too long, that was for sure, Warren leaned his forehead tiredly against the rusting metal banister of the fire escape, as he stared blankly down at his dinner two stories below. He held his wings tighter to his body as the tears continued to fall.

What was he going to do now? This wouldn't be the last time, of that he knew, but if he said anything then Scott would hurt, or maybe, he shuddered at the thought, even kill Mr. Logan. He couldn't let that happen. He resolved to keep his mouth shut and bare it, for Mr. Logan's sake.


	4. Temporary Escape

**Hey all. So so so so sorry for the short chapter, but I've had the worst writer's block, its terrible. But here's something. And never fear, the plot will be picking up soon. Big thanks to endiahna and Patricia16 for reviewing. So enjoy and don't forget to review!**

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Three months passed quickly, but for Warren, not fast enough. At first Scott had only called for him to stay after class, or come to see him after dinner once or twice a week, but then it slowly became every night. Then some days during lunch, before school, right after school, until Warren was spending nearly every minute he wasn't in class or doing homework with Professor Scott.

It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. Scott had been gentle, tender, but as time went on, and still Warren couldn't stop himself from crying almost every time, Scott began to get violent.

It was November when Warren first smelled alcohol on Scott's breath, but he'd been too afraid to say anything. But it didn't stop there. Professor Scott never actually got drunk, but it was always there in the evenings, that underlying taste of vodka on his breath.

On the first night of Christmas break, Warren dared to voice his concern. "You aren't supposed to drink, you're a teacher," he said quietly, as Scott was pulling his boxers back on.

"I don't seem to remember when that became your business," Scott said coarsely, not looking at the younger mutant.

"Still-" Warren faltered.

"Still," Scott mimicked, "You're precious Mr. Logan drinks."

"Not on school grounds," Warren protested without thinking.

"Shut up!" Scott yelled suddenly, whirling around and slapping Warren across the cheek.

Warren put a hand to his stinging cheek and blinked several times in surprise.

"I'm sorry," Scott said quickly, also seeming surprised, "I didn't mean to, I don't know what came over…"

"It's alright," Warren said quickly, standing up and grabbing his shirt, "I, um, just remembered some… homework or something I forgot to do, so night." And with that he ran quickly from the room.

He didn't stop running until he'd reached his own room and shut the door firmly behind him.

Warren leaned against the closed door for several minutes, until his heart rate returned to normal. Then he crossed the room and sat in front of his small mirror. He examined his face for a moment, signing as he saw that it was red and slightly swollen.

He glanced absently at his cell phone, which he'd left sitting on bedside table, three missed calls. His father was really being persistent about him coming home for Christmas. Warren sighed again and looked once more into the mirror, deciding that the swelling in his cheek wouldn't go down for a while, he reached over and picked up his cell phone.

Early the next morning Warren padded silently down the long carpeted hallway, pausing in front of Professor Scott's door. He knew that Scott wouldn't be awake for several more hours, good. Quietly he bent down and slid the note he had written the night before under Scott's door, before returning to his room, grabbing his small suitcase, and heading toward the main door of the institute, down the long sweeping front driveway, to the long black car waiting for him.

He'd informed Head Mistress Storm the night before that he would be spending Christmas with his family after all. He was free, in a way, for the next few weeks at least.

He saw the only down fall of leaving strolling calmly into the morning sunlight as the long black car pulled away. But he sighed, forcing himself to look away. The important thing just then was that he was getting away from Scott for a little while.


	5. Return To Bondage

**Hey all. I am so so so so so so so so so so impossibly sorry for the super long wait. I had the WORST writer's block on this story, it was terrible. But for now its gone and I have written several chapters ahead, so updates should be fairly regular for a little while. I also apologize for the shortness of the chapters, that's seeming to become a trend, which is sad, but that's just how they end themselves. Huge thanks to my reviewer, endiahna. Again, soo sorry for the wait and the shortness. But enjoy, and review, please? Warren will love you forever if you do:)**

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Christmas came, and went. Then New Years was gone too. At first Mr. Worthington tried to make it at least look like they were a family. He planned "family outings", which typically involved the Step Monster (Warren's mother of the month) passing out by lunch time, and his father continually bringing up how nice it would be to have Warren home all the time, and not at "that freak school", by which of course he really mean how nice it would be to have a normal son, not bird-boy.

Warren did his best to ignore it, spending as much time as he could relaxing in his room, and simply enjoying his temporary freedom from Professor Scott.

Then at last the day came for him to return. His father was there when he left; the Step Monster was dipping into her eleven o'clock drink.

"Well, goodbye son," said Mr. Worthington, giving his son a brief hug. Warren said nothing, having been more than a little disturbed by his father's sudden warmth towards him. His father waved as the car pulled away. Warren sighed and pulled the cure packet out of his jacket pocket that he was quite certain his father had just slipped there, and threw it out of the window.

It was late when Warren arrived back at the school. The sun had set and nearly all of the other students had already arrived and settled down to bed, making sure to get a good night's rest before the new term started the next day. The hallway was dark as Warren set his bags down to unlock the door to his room.

"I missed you," came a dangerously soft voice from the shadows a few feet away.

"I'm sure," Warren murmured, struggling to ignore the sudden pounding in his chest at the voice.

"That was rude you know, leaving without a word like that," Scott whispered, drawing closer.

Warren suppressed a shuddered; he could almost feel Professor Scott's hot breath on the back of his neck. "I left a note," he said.

"But that way I couldn't say my proper goodbyes," there was a false, mocking whine in Scott's voice that made Warren's gut clench.

"I'm sorry," Warren lied, opening the door and walking into it, turning to close the door behind him.

But the goodnight he was forcing to his lips died in his throat as Scott put up a hand, holding the door open, and all of Warren's hopes of having one restful night at school were dashed.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Scott asked, a dangerously playful grin crossing his face, "I've been so lonely while you were gone." Scott didn't wait for Warren to answer; he simply pushed his way in and locked the door behind him, attacking Warren's lips.

On reflex, at first Warren tried to pull away, but Scott only deepened the kiss, shoving the younger mutant roughly down onto the bed. So Warren had no choice but to close his eyes and bite his lip as the nightmares started all over again.


	6. Gym Class

**Hey all. Again, so so so so so sorry for the really short chapter. I seriously have been having the worst writer's block, its terrible. But, here is a chapter nonetheless. Huge thanks to endiahna for reviewing. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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The next morning Warren woke up late, big surprise, and rushed out of his room almost before he had his pants on all the way. He was _not_ going to be late the first day of the new term. He ran into the Dinning Hall and grabbed the nearest bagel, quickly spreading the first thing he could reach on it, which turned out to be maple syrup, interesting combination, then ran out again, jamming half of the bagel into his mouth as he ran.

"Warren, wait!" called someone as he rushed out of the doors. Warren skidded to a stop and whirled around. It was Head Mistress Storm. "Don't forget your schedule for the semester," she said, smiling at him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his mouth still full of bagel, and grabbed the paper she held out to him, turning and running off again. He glanced briefly at the paper, nearly knocking over seven younger students as he wasn't watching where he was going, and read just enough to know that his first class met in the gym, oh boy, the complete opposite end of the campus.

Even running he skidded into the gym a full two minutes after the bell, great.

"Thanks for joining us, kid," growled the professor sarcastically. The other boys in the class, an all boy class, Warren noticed, sniggered.

"Sorry, Professor-r," he stuttered, his heart all but stopping when he stopped long enough to look at the professor.

Mr. Logan stood in front of a cluster of twenty-five or so boys around Warren's own age, raising a cool eyebrow at him.

"I'm not 'Professor," Logan said, and Warren was quite certain that if Mr. Logan didn't stop staring straight at him, and his chest which a few flashes of where poking through his poorly buttoned shirt, soon, he would slid right through the floor and never be seen again.

But thankfully Mr. Logan quickly turned his gaze back to the class at large, "You kids got that?" he growled, "I'm not Mr., or Sir, or Professor, or any other ridiculous things you might wish to call me. I'm just Logan." The class nodded solemnly. Warren tried to creep over to join the other boys without being noticed, but was quite certain that they could all hear the pounding of his heart anyway, so he didn't think he was doing much good.

"Now that we're all clear on that," Logan grinned, in truth, a grin that didn't promise much fun, but make Warren's heart skip six more beats, "Lets start our semester of fun with twenty laps around the gym." The other boys grumbled, but reluctantly started to jog off, Warren behind the group and uncomfortable aware of Mr. Logan's eyes following him.


	7. A Special Dinner

**Hey all, sorry for the wait, finals and such, you know. Anyway, here's the chapter, and it's a little longer this time, yay! Huge thanks to Foy and endiahna for reviewing. Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

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The rest of the day passed in a haze for Warren. For the next eighteen weeks, he would get to spend a whole hour with Mr. Logan five days a week. He was in heaven, or at least for that hour every morning he was.

But he was brought sharply back down to earth, when he was too slow to pack up his bag after the last bell and Professor Scott cornered him alone in the classroom.

"Its so nice having you back," Scott purred. The constant reek of alcohol on his breath had become stronger since before break, Warren noticed. "I missed you so much. Why don't we have a special dinner tonight, just the two of us? It'll be fun." Warren seriously doubted that, at least on his end.

"W-Well," he stammered, "I-I do have homewo-" He was cut off by Scott's lips roughly capturing his.

"I insist, seven o'clock, I'll be waiting," and with that he strolled out, humming softly to himself.

Warren sighed, and headed down to the Dinning Hall anyway, as he seriously doubted he would have much of an appetite later, assuming of course that Professor Scott actually intended to have dinner.

xXxXx

Warren's instincts proved right as he entered Scott's rooms at seven o'clock that evening and found only a half empty bottle of scotch sitting on his bedside table.

Warren sat uncomfortably on the bed, seeing no sign of Scott in the bedroom. He glanced idly around the room while he waited. It looked much the same as before Christmas Break, with clothes strewn across the floor and papers thrown haphazardly on the desk, the waste paper basket over flowing and a neatly made bed. The only things that were new were the many empty bottles of scotch and vodka mixed in with the papers and clothes, and the heavy stench of alcohol. It was so heavy, in fact, that Warren was surprised nobody could smell it from outside of the room.

"You're late," Scott growled. Warren jumped, not having noticed the older mutant come out of the bathroom. He held yet another bottle of vodka in his hand, this one with barely a mouthful left in the bottom, and he was leaning heavily on the doorframe, his speech heavily slurred.

"Sorry," Warren murmured, wisely choosing not to correct the older mutant. He had actually been right on time.

"Don't be smart with me!" Scott roared, stumbling across the room far fast than Warren thought he should be able to, and punching the younger mutant so hard that he flew back and fell of off the opposite side of the bed.

"First," Scott ranted, baring down on Warren, how cowered on the floor, "You disappear for three weeks without so much of a word goodbye, _then_ you take _his_ class!"

After a brief moment it registered to Warren exactly whose class Scott was talking about. "I didn't sign up for it," Warren tried desperately to explain, even though he knew Scott was too drunk to listen, "It's a required course, Head Mistress Stor-"

"Shut up!" Scott hissed, hitting him again, "You. Stupid. Worthless. Brat." He accentuated every word by punching Warren squarely in the chest. Scott kept talking, but the rest of his words were lost on Warren as he found it increasingly difficult to breath through the constant waves of pain rushing through him.

His head was spinning, his lungs ached for oxygen, he felt certain that any second his ribs would snap into pieces. He was crying, he dimly realized as the salty tears flooded into his mouth. Distantly he heard a pleading voice begging for Professor Scott to stop, and realized it was his own. But the beating only continued, the blows raining down harder and harder until all Warren could see was black and he knew he was about to lose consciousness.

Then, at last, at long last, it did stop. But Warren didn't open his eyes, he was afraid to. He heard labored breathing, whether his own or Professor Scott's, he couldn't tell. He panted, taking the brief reprieve. Then he felt rough, shaking hands beginning to undo his belt. A tiny whimper escaped his throat, but he had no strength to resist.

"Please," he begged breathlessly, "Please no, not tonig-" but his pleading was cut off as a muffled scream tore through his lips as Scott thrust into him.

Tears continued to flow, choking him. His chest ached, he hurt, he couldn't breath, the darkness was growing heavier and heavier even as the pain in his body began to feel detached. Until at last, at long blessed last, with a soundless whimper, his head fell limply to the side. Scott didn't even notice.


	8. Pain

**Here's chapter nine, again I apologize for the shortness. Huge thanks to my reviewers: endiahna and Patricia16. Read, Review, Enjoy.**

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He stirred, moaning. Damn he hurt. He blinked, and tried to focus, but the world merely spun around him, making him feel nauseous, so he closed his eyes again and lay back until it passed. His chest ached fiercely. He coughed, that hurt worse. So he stopped moving. He simply lay there, absorbing the many places where pain raced through his body.

Slowly, the pain began to lower at least to a tolerable level and he became a bit more aware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the heavy stench of alcohol. He was still in Professor Scott's room. He tried opening his eyes again, this time with better results, and found himself sprawled on the bed. Dimly he remembered being on the floor when he'd passed out, at least Scott had had the decency to move him, although perhaps Warren was overestimating his noble intentions and _decency_ wasn't the right word. Either way.

He groaned, attempting to sit up and only half succeeding. A gasp caught in his throat despite himself as he glanced down over his own naked body in the cheery sunlight streaming in through the curtains over the window. His entire chest was mottled in brilliant shades of green, yellow, purple, blue, red, and even some black. It looked as though a painter had decided to turn Warren's body into a masterpiece, or something to clean his brushed out on.

Feeling nauseous again, Warren was forced to sink weakly back down onto the bed. He sighed, finding himself wishing he was still unconscious, and glanced absently around the room. His eyes landed on the clock. It was 1:49 in the afternoon.

He shot straight up, and leapt halfway out of bed, immediately regretting the impulsive move and nearly passing out again from the waves of nausea and pain that racked his body. He'd slept all day! He'd missed nearly a whole day of classes! He was going to be in so much trouble.

The room swam before his eyes as he stumbled around the room, clinging desperately to anything he could in order to keep himself on his feet. He struggled to find his clothes and put them on. His breath came in short, painful gasps, his chest ached, his vision swirled and burred, and he found that he was shaking from cold.

At last he managed to get all of his clothes on properly. He stumbled to the door, but paused and turned to the window instead. He wasn't so sure that flying was really a smart idea just then, but as he heard footsteps and laughing voices not far beyond the door, he decided that the risk was worth avoiding anything seeing him leaving Professor Scott's room, at such an odd time of the day too.

He gasped, almost crying out at the pain searing through him as he flapped his wings. But he clenched his teeth and forced himself to move, flying as quickly as he could to his own window. He almost missed his footing as he tried to land on the ledge, his vision fading in and out of focus, but he managed to catch himself just in time and all but fell into his room.

He stumbled towards his bed, but changed direction quickly as he felt like he was going to throw up. But he didn't make it to the bathroom; instead he fell to his knees a good three feet yet from the door and retched violently. When at last he was done he practically had to drag himself to the bed and at last managed to collapse onto it, panting.

He grabbed the blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed and snuggled under it. As he closed his eyes he felt gravity slowly leaving, as he slipped farther and farther away into gently, comforting emptiness.


	9. Sleep

**Sooooo sorry for the long update wait, I've been really busy. So, are the short chapters annoying anyone else? They're driving me nuts, but they won't seem to get any longer! Oh well, once things pick up, which I promise they will soon, the chapters should get longer. Huge thanks to Foy, endiahna, and Patricia16 for reviewing. Its short, but enjoy and please review.**

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Warren woke several hours later to an aggravated pounding on his door. He groaned softly, pulling the blanket up over his head, and muttered, "Come in."

The door hit the wall with a bang and a brisk voice demanded, "What are you still doing in bed, young man?" Warren groaned again, it was Head Mistress Storm.

"Don't feel well," Warren muttered, poking just his eyes out from under the blanket and passionately hoping she wouldn't make him get out of bed or anything. He had no shirt on.

Storm stopped her advance on him, twitched, and noticed the pile of throw up Warren hadn't cleaned up before passing out. Everyone knew Storm was extremely germ phobic.

"Well, I'd best get Hank then," she said, quickly retreating from the room.

Once she was gone Warren sat up cautiously, still holding the blanket over his chest, as Storm hadn't closed his door. He stumbled out of bed, and closed the door, feeling vaguely like he was about to throw up again. He bent over, fumbling around in the heaps of clothing and books that covered his floor trying to dig out a shirt.

At last he found a worn old hoodie and pulled it on, folding his wings to his back. After that he went over to his desk and pulled out the bottle of painkillers he always kept in the top drawer. He took two and took a drink from the glass of water he always kept on his bedside table, and collapsed back into bed.

However, he was just about to drift off back to sleep when there was another knock on his door, abet this time softer and more polite, but still annoying.

"Yeah?" he mumbled sleepily.

Hank opened the door softly, poking his furry blue head in side, "Storm said you weren't feeling well."

"Just a cold," Warren lied in a moan, "I'll be fine tomorrow." Why couldn't they just let him sleep?

Hank entered the room, carefully side stepping the throw up and put a gentle hand on Warren's forehead. "You do seem to have a slight fever," he announced, "Here, take these," Hank set some pills on the table beside the glass of water, "And get some rest. I'll, egh, clean that up for you," he left, returning before long with some rags which he used to clean up the throw up. He then placed a bucket beside Warren's bed, "Just in case you do that again," he explained. Then he left, gently closing the door behind him and leaving Warren to the dark of his room and the silence of his thoughts.


	10. Getting Through

**Hey all. So here it is, chapter 10. And I am BEYOND happy, to say that in a sudden burst of the absence of writer's block, I have in the past few days written several chapters all of them nearly a whole three pages long, yay! Death to the too short chapters! Also, things are FINALLY starting to pick up, and Logan is FINALLY actually going to be in it. Much of the next few chapters are even from his point of view. Aren't you happy? I AM! Ok, so, enough of that. HUGE thanks to storyofgreen, and endiahna for reviewing. Enjoy and please review!**

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The next morning, Warren woke up dreading Mr. Logan's class, something he'd never thought would be possible.

As he stood in front of his mirror inspecting his heavily bruised chest, he decided it would be a miracle if he got through the day without fainting. However, he had no choice but to drag himself down to breakfast, as too many questions would be asked by the teachers if he was absent too much. And by 'teachers' he of course meant Storm, who was obsessively anal about her star pupils missing class.

And so, he forced himself to wolf down some toast before starting toward the gym, making it with only seconds until the bell.

"Settle down and take a seat!" Mr. Logan had to all but yell over the chattering teenage boys.

Warren almost fell over with relief when he realized that metal folding chairs had been set up in front of a roll away blackboard; they would be taking notes today.

The rest of the day passed in a painful blur, ending when Warren fell exhaustedly into bed that evening without even bothering to eat dinner.

8

To Warren's immense relief his luck held, and they took notes in gym for the rest of the week. They learned all about muscles, bones, heart rates, good exercise plans, diet, etc., and didn't do any strenuous activity what so ever.

Also, Professor Scott seemed to back off, just a little. He gave Warren several days to rest, and even when he did begin to press the boy again, he was a little gentler.

However, that was where Warren's luck ran out.

Monday morning came, and Warren, still aching all over, although he didn't have to take quite so many painkillers anymore, once more, dragged himself out of bed and down to the gym.

"Alright, kids," Mr. Logan called, silencing the class as he strolled in, a basketball under each arm, "Now that the book work's finally out of the way, we start on the real games. Today we're playing basketball, _no powers_." A few of the boys grumbled at this, but a glare from Logan silenced them. "Now, I'm going to divide you up into teams. You, shirts," Logan pointed to Bobby, "You, skins," and so on down the line.

Warren's heart sank to his toes and kept on going right through the floor; Mr. Logan had just put him on the skins team.

"Mr. Logan, I have to go to the restroom," he called as the group broke, those on the skins team started striping off their shirts and lining up to start.

"Hurry back!" Logan called after his retreating back before tossing a ball in the air and starting the game.

8

In the large, gym locker room Warren stood, shirtless and staring hopelessly at his reflection in the large mirror. Although the bruises were beginning to fade and were far less frightening to look at now, the majority of his chest was still covered in a rainbow of yellows, purples, and greens.

There was no way he could go out there.

"Worthington? What are you doing in there?" Shit, that was Mr. Logan's voice. But before Warren had time to do more than jump in surprise he had opened the door and was standing staring at Warren's bare chest.

Reflexively Warren wrapped his arms around his chest in a futile attempt to hide the ugly marks.

"What happened here?" Mr. Logan asked, slowly approaching Warren, his tone carefully relaxed, though the faint crease between his eyebrows belied him.

"I-I fell," Warren lied quickly, fighting the urge to take a step back from the older mutant.

"You got that beat up… from a fall?" Mr. Logan raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Out of a tree," Warren added, "A-a few branches tried to catch me… it didn't work very well." He'd never been much of a liar before, but he couldn't think of a better time to discover a talent for it.

"You fell out of a tree?" Warren nodded. "We should have Hank take a look at it," Logan was already turning toward the door.

"No!" Warren exclaimed quickly. Logan turned back with a raised eyebrow. "I-its really not that bad," Warren was, once again, lying, "It looks a lot worse than it is."

Logan studied him for several long minutes, his expression hard to read. Warren fidgeted uncomfortably, his heart pounding in panic.

At last Logan turned away, back towards the door. "Then get your shirt back on and get out there. If it ain't bad enough for Hank to look at it, it ain't too bad for you to play," he growled heading toward the door.

"Y-yes, Sir," Warren stuttered.

"And its not Sir," Logan added without breaking stride, "Its just Logan." And with that he was gone.

"Yes, Logan," Warren whispered, savoring the name as he leaned weakly back against the wall for a moment in relief, before doing as he was told.


	11. Flirting

**Hey all, here's chapter 11. Yay! More Logan! Huge thanks to endiahna, Patricia16, and storyofgreen for reviewing. Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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After that things began to settle into a routine.

By the time the bruises had just faded entirely, Scott once more lost his temper at the younger mutant, although not nearly as bad as the first time, and Warren found himself still more or less able to move the next morning. This soon happened at least once or twice a week, depending on just how drunk Scott got. But it was never as bad as the first time, and Warren managed to continue with life as though nothing was happening.

Gym quickly became his favorite class, of course. He was happily surprised to see that Mr. Logan often would join them in whatever exercises they were doing, laughing and joking with the other boys. Warren soon found himself excelling at whatever they were doing, he had always loved sports, and, he had to admit, even if only to himself, he never passed up a chance to show off for Mr. Logan. And, although he was constantly careful to make sure he ended up on the shirts team, if Logan noticed, he didn't say anything.

Life was still hell, but at least he had those blissful mornings full of Mr. Logan to keep himself going.

8

As time passed, Logan began to find that first period every morning was his favorite time of the day too. At first he tried to rationalize to himself that he had always been a morning person, and that his first class were simply less idiotic than his others, but as the weeks passed he was forced to admit that only one of his pupils was less idiotic than the others.

Warren Worthington III was, undeniably, in a class higher than all the others. He was faster, quieter, and far more intelligent than the other students. And, though he spoke little to not at all, Logan watched his eyes flicker and dance as he followed the conversations of his classmates.

Before long, Logan caught himself noticing when the winged boy passed in the hallways between classes. Often, Logan would take walks around the grounds in the evenings; he loved the outdoors, and found himself watching the small figure circling high up in the clouds.

One day, the class was in the weight room. Logan wandered around through the groups of boys, joking here, cautioning there, when he noticed Warren in the corner, about to bench a good three hundred pounds.

"Don't you think you might want a spotter for that?" he asked, approaching the younger mutant.

Warren reflexively jumped to his feet in surprise, not having noticed Logan approaching. "I-I-," he stammered.

Logan suppressed a laugh at the boy's shyness. "Here, I'll spot you. But are you sure you can lift that?" he asked, eyeing Warren's lithe frame, "I can't have you hurting yourself now."

"Well, I-," Warren moved to take off some of the weight, but Logan stopped him with a hand.

"I didn't mean that I doubted you, kid," he said, unable to entirely hide his grin, "If you think you can do it, then by all means."

"O-OK," Warren stammered, pulling back from Logan's touch and sitting back down on the bench and sliding under the bar, a slightly red tint dusting his cheeks. He left the weights where they were.

Logan placed his hands under the bar, ready to catch it should Warren drop it, and Warren, grabbing the bar, slowly began to lift it. He managed three full reps before he began to strain. But still he kept going, despite the fact that his breathing hitched constantly and he was becoming rather red in the face.

Halfway through the fifth rep his arms gave and the heavy bar fell toward his chest. Logan caught it, easily sliding it back onto the pegs on which it rested.

"Good job," Logan congratulated, chuckling under his breath as he walked around the bench and extended a friendly hand down to Warren, pulling in up into a sitting position.

Warren's blush was quite a bit more pronounced this time as he smiled.

"You've definitely got Eric over there beat," Logan said, in a half whisper, nodding his head toward a wiry boy on the other side of the room, who was having trouble lifting the bar alone.

Warren glanced over, and laughed softly. His laugh was a soft, shy sound; Logan decided he liked it, a lot.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Both were reluctant to move, but neither could find anything to say.

At last Logan spoke. "So, I've seen you up flying before, you look like you really enjoy it," he said awkwardly, anything to start some form of conversation.

"Its amazing," Warren said, a faint light flickering in his eyes at the mention of flying, "I-if you want I could take you up sometime."

"Do you think you could lift me?" Logan asked dubiously, once more eyeing Warren's not-so-muscular frame, though he smiled as he did so.

From the way Warren's face paled when he realized what he'd just blurted out Logan guess what the younger mutant was struggling very hard to keep himself from slapping his own forehead. Also, judging from the passionate blush, he was probably wishing he were at least a hundred feet in any direction from where he was. But, miraculously, he managed to find an answer, and with minimal stuttering too. "M-my wings are strong than my a-arms," he muttered, carefully studying the ground at his toes.

"Well, yeah, that'd be great," Logan fumbled. Since when was he awkward and uncomfortable talking to anyone? Let alone a student.

Warren looked up quickly, blushing (by now Logan had become quite certain that he found Warren's blushes extremely cute), and also smiling. This smile was not the tentative, shy, almost scared smile he usually gave when called to smile, but in fact a broad, true, happy smile, although still quite shy, and Logan decided that he like that look best of all so far.

But just then the bell rang, and Warren, jumping, with an odd look of almost guilt crossing his face, grabbed his bag and ran for the door as quickly as he could, though he did manage to call back over his should, "Good-bye Mr. Logan!"

"Just Logan!" Logan hollered back, in slight annoyance, but he doubted Warren heard.


	12. Confession and Discovery

**Hey all. So here's the next chapter. More from Logan's point of view, yay! Huge thanks to endiahna, Patricia16, and storyofgreen for reviewing. Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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After that Logan took every chance he got to talk to Warren. He couldn't help it, there was just something addicting about the boy. His shy smiles, his soft laugh, how it was possible, with much coaxing, to get him to offer his quiet opinion on something. But the closer Logan tried to get to him, the more he had the unshakable feeling that something was terribly wrong.

'Every chance he got' wasn't very often. Sometime Logan managed to break away from the other's during class, or he tracked down the winged mutant in the hallways. But always, especially outside of class, Warren found some reason or another to dash off. At first Logan had taken that as that Warren had no interest in talking to him, but he soon realized, that Warren simply blushed and smiled too much for that to be the case. It puzzled him to no end. Warren was just a busy young man, Logan settled himself by reasoning, after all, nearly all of his classes were highly advanced.

All the same, it was beyond frustrating.

8

"Warren!" Logan called one evening, grabbing the younger mutant by the arm to stop him.

"H-hey," Warren stammered, blushing and jumping at the same time (He did both quite often). Logan was beginning to wonder if Warren stuttered like that all the time, or only around him.

"I was just thinking… that you know, maybe, you'd like to take me up, flying, tonight, if you're not busy," Logan kept his tone carefully nonchalant, rubbing the back of his neck absently, a nervous habit of his. He was slightly out of breath, and had a feeling that that wasn't due to the fact that he'd just jogged down several hallways to catch up with the younger mutant.

"I-I," Warren said, though he was smiling. But suddenly he stopped, his eyes, which always seemed to constantly sweep his surrounds nervously, Logan had noticed (Logan realized that he'd been noticing a lot of things about Warren lately), focusing on something behind Logan.

"I-I have to go," he said, and it did pass Logan that he'd suddenly stiffened and paled slightly, "I'm sorry." And with that he ran off down the hall.

Logan growled softly under his breath in annoyance, and turned, trying to figure out what had startled Warren. All he saw was a group of younger girls passing by, giggling over something in a magazine one of them held, and Scott, absently examining an old vase set decoratively on a table in the corner of the hallway

Annoyed with himself more than the flighty, younger mutant he seemed irrevocably drawn to, Logan turned on his heel and decided to take a long walk in the warm, twilight.

8

By Logan's fourth round around the grounds of the institute he was still unable to keep a certain blonde, shy mutant boy out of his mind.

That was it; there was no denying. Logan was totally, completely, and irrevocably in love with Warren Worthington III. Well, maybe _love_ was going a bit too far, but he was attracted to the boy, a lot. He liked the boy, a lot.

Warren liked him back; he had too. He displayed every symptom of it when he was around Logan. The older mutant could have smacked himself for taking this long to truly see those shy smiles, the blushes, the stammer and nerves had meant.

And once something was decided, Logan wasn't one to stand around and keep thinking about it. So, without a second thought on the matter he turned back to the institute and toward Warren's room.

How he knew where Warren's room was despite the fact that he'd never had occasion to be there before, well, it wasn't that hard. It wasn't like he'd been stalking the younger mutant or anything… hardly. _Borderline_ stalking, maybe. But not a lot.

He knocked rapidly on the door with the brass nameplate reading _Warren Worthington III_ on it and wait for an answer. None came. There was no sound from within. After several minutes he knocked again. Warren wasn't out fly, he'd have noticed, and it was too late for him to be in the library. Perhaps Warren had just fallen asleep. Well, if that was the case, he would just have to wake up, Logan wouldn't wait. Tomorrow was Saturday anyway; it wasn't like he'd have to worry about over sleeping.

Finally, there was the muffled sound of someone moving about in the room and a few minutes later the door opened, just a crack. Warren's face could be seen. "Logan?" he whispered in surprise, opening the door a little wider, "What are you-" His hair was tousled and his pajamas had obviously been thrown on in a hurry.

"Honey? Who is it?" a sleepy voice slurred from within.

Warren glanced over his shoulder, and Logan noticed he looked slightly paler than usual, "N-nothing," he stammered quickly, "Go back to sleep."

Logan felt the bottom drop out of his stomach in surprise, "Is that Scott?" he demanded, his own voice little more than a choked hiss.

The way Warren carefully avoided meeting Logan's gaze was all the answer the older mutant needed. "D-did you need something?" he asked, his eyes trained firmly on the floor beneath his bare toes.

"No," Logan said quickly, already turning away, "Forget it." And with that he was strolling as calmly and purposefully down the hallway as he could, and out of sight.

8

Warren watched the love of his life walk away, as tears came unbidden to his pure blue eyes. Why? Why did Logan have to suddenly become interested in him? Why did he have to make everything so much harder? A few months ago Warren would have given anything for Mr. Logan to talk to him. Now the butterflies in his stomach at the sight of his beloved only served to make him sick with terror of Professor Scott.

"Warren?" the alcohol slurred voice brought Warren back to reality and he realized that he was still standing in his partially open doorway. Scott blinked blurrily at him, peering through the scotch-haze that perpetually fogged his mind these days, half sitting up in Warren's bed with nothing but a bed sheet pulled up his waist.

"S-sorry," he said quickly, shutting the door and locking it, before reluctantly approaching the bed. He dreaded to do it, he dreaded being anywhere near the tyrant who had taken control of his life, but he dreaded even more what would happen if he refused the older man.

Thankfully, Scott was too drunk and too close to sleep to do anything more but pull Warren back down on the bed and wrap his arms around the younger mutant, apparently not noticing as Warren suppressed a soft cry when Scott pressed one of the large purple bruises on his chest.

"Night, love," Scott slurred.

Warren just stared blankly up at the ceiling as silent tears slowly began to slide down his cheeks.


	13. Lies

**Hey all, so here's the next chapter. Sorry for the wait, I've been busy. Huge thanks to storyofgreen and Patricia for reviewing. So, oh my god, excitement, things are moving, moving. I'll warn you, something climatic happens in the next chapter, not THE climax, no worries there's plenty more to come, but something big, and more reviews I get the sooner I'll update, so review, review, review. K? K, great. :) Read, Review, Enjoy.**

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The next day, Warren seemed to be everywhere Logan was, despite the fact that they were both trying to avoid each other. Finally, Logan saw Warren take to the air, and they were both able to spend the rest of the day sulking out of each other's sight.

Logan spent it working on his bike, grumbling to himself and calling himself an idiot several times, only in somewhat less polite terms.

Warren on the other hand, remained for the most part, soaring high above the school and trying not to think at all. From time to time he would perch in one of the trees, he always chose one at the back of the school, well away from the garage, in order to rest. Finally, in the late after Scott woke up, or anyway, became as awake as it was possible to be in his perpetual drunken stupor, and came to seek Warren out.

Warren escaped as quickly as possible, leaving Scott somewhat less than conscious on the rusting fire escape where everything had started and took the air again, staying up for longer than he usually would have in the hopes that when he woke Scott would wonder off in search of more scotch and leave him be for the rest of the day. He didn't even bother going to dinner, Scott had made him very not hungry.

When at last he did land, night had begun to fall and the institute was lit by cheery windows behind which comparatively carefree mutant kids where finishing their homework, laughing and joking with their friends, and getting ready for bed. Warren wasn't ready to go in yet, so instead he landed silently just beyond the trees that covered a large part of the huge grounds and on the large lawn beside the school, and grabbing his shirt from the tree where he'd left it, left it half buttoned, and went for a stroll. He breathed in deeply as he walked, the warm night air calming him as it always did.

He was so preoccupied with carefully _not_ thinking about a certain two older mutants that he hadn't even realized the small group of boys about his age, a few even older, grouped around the wall smoking.

"Hey, look it boys," one of them crowed gleefully, "It's the little princeling, decided to grace us poor earth-bound folk with his presence."

Warren whirled, but before he had time to properly react they had formed a ring around him.

"Did you come out to play with us, hm?" another asked. Warren recognized several of them from his classes, a few other's he didn't want to know.

"Yeah," a third sniggered, "Play with us." Warren backed away uncertainly, his hands up defensively.

8

Logan threw the old towel he'd just finished cleaning grease off of his hands with carelessly into a far corner of the garage as he walked out under the starry evening sky. He had long since ceased to actually verbally grumble, but there was still often a steady stream of senseless profanities passing through his mind.

Suddenly his ears pricked as he heard faint sounds of jeering around the corner of the building. Grumbling something incoherently about kids who don't go to bed, even though it wasn't actually after curfew yet, he started toward the sounds that broke the peace of the night.

His pace quickened immensely when he recognized the blonde boy who was getting shoved roughly around the ring.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, pushing through the ring to get to Warren and glowering at the rest of them.

"Nothing," one said innocently, "We was just havin' some fun."

"Not on my watch, now get to bed," Logan growled threateningly, "And if I ever seen any of you put so much as a toe out of line again I'll report the whole lot of you to Storm." The boys scampered.

"Those idiots," Logan growled angrily, beginning to lead Warren by the arm without even fully realizing he was doing it, "Oughta know better, the uncivilized scu-."

"Stop," Warren said, and Logan did stop, out of shock. It was the first time he'd ever heard Warren speak without stuttering or sounding as though he was afraid someone would lash out at him for opening his mouth.

Warren pulled his arm for Logan's grasp, his eyes resolutely level. "Thank you for your assistance," he said stiffly, "But I didn't need it."

"Bullshit," Logan said, surprise more than anything else pushing the word through his lips. He was by now in a thoroughly sour mood, which accounted completely for his angry tone.

Warren flinched slightly, but didn't waiver. "And I thank you to please stop attempting to talk to me outside of class," he continued, sticking his chin mulishly in the air, his jaw carefully knotted as he forced out his lies.

Logan snorted, he knew Warren was lying, he just couldn't figure out why. "I just can't figure you out," he said, his voice rough with the emotions he was not used to feeling, or at least, not being able to control, "One minute you're practically falling all over me, then the next you're putting on airs and 'thanking me for my assistance'?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Warren replied, but his lower lip quivered, just a little, as he turned to walk away.

Logan stopped him, grabbing his arm and pushing him against the wall in frustration. He pressed his body close to Warren, bracing his hands on the wall one on each side of Warren's head. Warren's breath hitched and his eyes widened considerably, but Logan pretended not to notice. "Why the hell are you even with Scott?" he demanded, "You like me, I know you do. I can _see_ it!" He was practically yelling, but he didn't care.

"I-I-" Warren stammered, finding it nearly impossible to breathe with Logan so close, especially in _that_ position, but Logan didn't even give him the chance to try and finish.

Instead he surged forward, taking Warren's lips in his. Warren's gasp was stifled by Logan's tongue sliding itself into his mouth. Warren closed his eyes, struggling with himself, but finding it impossible to think with that sweet taste in his mouth.

But just as Warren was about to give in, Scott's face forced its way into his mind, and that poisonous hiss filled his mind, _"__I would just hate for something to happen to your precious Mr. Logan. So be a good little boy now."_

"No!" Warren yelled, impulsively shoving Logan away without even realizing he was doing it.

Logan stumbled back several steps from the sheer force of the push, looking hurt. But Warren's eyes were too blurred with tears to see.

"Just get away from me!" Warren yelled, "Just go!"

For a moment Logan looked like he was going to say something, but instead he just turned and fled into the night.

Warren sank weakly to his knees, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around his chest, it hurt, it hurt so much. He'd cried so many times in his life, but never like this, not even the first time with Scott, he'd never cried this much. It felt as though his chest was going to rip apart at the seams, like his whole body was just going to fall to pieces with the force of his sobs.

_Why? Why?_ That was all he wanted to know as he knelt there in the dark, drowning the grass beneath him with his tears. He rocked back and forth, hugging himself in a futile attempt to hold himself together.

8

Barely a few feet away, just within the belt of trees a pair of dark sunglasses hid their wearer's expression, but it wasn't hard to feel the anger, hate, jealousy, and vengeance rolling off of Scott in heavy, oppressive waves as he watched Warren sob, the heat pulsing through his veins like a living thing. He was already imagining ways to avenge the situation.

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**Once again, reminder, review, review, review, for the huge thing coming next chapter. :)**


	14. Escape!

**Hey all! So, Oh My God, dun dun dun, the chapter you've all been waiting for! Yay! Huge thanks to storyofgreen, endiahna, and Patricia16 for reviewing. Read, Review, Enjoy!**

* * *

Warren had nearly cried himself out and was just beginning to collect himself, when he felt a presence looming over him. Looking up quickly, he choked, panic sudden constricting his chest and making it impossible to breathe.

"Hello, pet," Scott said pleasantly, his smile calm and gentle, deceivingly so.

Had he seen the kiss? He had to have, for him to be smiling like that. Warren was all but hyperventilating; tears beginning to flood down his cheeks again. Suddenly there was no doubt in his mind that Scott had seen the kiss, it was all over. Terror crept over him like a living thing, ripping his insides to shreds and making him long to wrap his arms around his chest once more and rock back and forth until the world just disappeared. But he was too afraid to move.

"Don't cry," Scott whispered as he knelt down so as to be eye level with the younger mutant. Warren watched, frozen helplessly, as Scott gently brushed a tear from his cheek, his breath whistling out of his chest as though he'd been hit.

"I-I'm sorry," Warren stammered through his sobs, "I-I d-didn't m-mean to-to let him k-k-"

"Shh," Scott soothed, "I won't hurt you," His tone was so misleadingly gentle and soothing, it made Warren even more afraid, "Why would I punish you for Logan's sins?"

Warren tried to say something, even he wasn't quite sure what, but all that came out was a strangled whimper.

"There now," Scott breathed, "Just be a good boy, sit here and wait until I'm done. I'll come back for you and we'll be together forever." As Scott leaned forward and kissed him, obliterating the lingering taste of Logan that Warren had been struggling to cling to, even the kiss, so unlike the way it usually was, was smooth and gentle. Scott had completely lost it.

"Once I free you of that monster," Scott soothed, running a gentle hand through Warren's hair, making the younger mutant shudder, "Of that… that beast who has soiled you so, then everything will be fine. We'll leave this place and start a new life together."

Warren didn't respond. He barely even heard Scott over the mass chaos that consumed his body. But one thing did pierce through the pain; _Logan was in danger, serious danger._

"Please," he tried to whisper, but it wouldn't come out right.

"Shh," Scott soothed, kissing him once more, "I won't be long, love."

Scott was already on his feet and several yards away when Warren became aware of the fact that he too was moving. With out even his telling them to, his legs had suddenly lifted him off of the ground and begun running towards Scott's retreating back, and strangled croak of, "No!" forcing its way through his swollen lips.

Scott turned, just in time to walk right into Warren's punch. Scott stumbled back several steps, a surprised hand on his bleeding nose. Scott stood there dumbly for a moment, staring at Warren in shock. Warren was in shock too as he stared back at the older mutant, his chest heaving as he still struggled to breathe, waiting in terror for what Scott would do next.

Scott did precisely what could have been predicted. His eyes narrowed, and his face became very red, and he rushed a Warren. Warren backed away, his hands up in futile defense, and Scott was upon him, shoving him to the ground, straddling him and proceeding to beat the living daylights out of him.

Warren cried out from the pain, struggling blindly. His mind was growing fuzzy and he knew he coming dangerously close to unconsciousness. _No!_ His mind yelled at him as he felt himself giving up, _No! You loose now, and you'll wake up to find Mr. Logan dead!_ That gave him the will to continue struggling. He had to break free, had to warn Logan, to make him leave, to run someplace where Scott would never find him, these were the only thoughts that penetrated Warren's reeling mind as they struggled, rolling around in the grass, Warren unable to do much but attempt to defend himself.

At last, all seemed lost. Scott had managed to pin Warren to the ground, punching him _hard_ in the gut so that all of the breath left him in a rush. He lay, unable to move as he struggled to inhale. The terror alone was almost enough to make the younger mutant pass out. But it seemed that for the moment, Scott's lust surpassed his need for revenge, as he roughly began to yank away Warren's pants.

Tears were streaming continually unheeded down Warren face as he lay there, spread eagled in the grass, staring numbly up at the stars above his head, drowning in his own sorrow. His hand grasped at the ground beneath him, crying out as Scott roughly grabbed his manhood. But, instead of soft grass coming away in his hand, it collided with something hard. Without a second thought he grabbed it, and not even looking he swung whatever it was.

It turned out to be a thick, fallen tree branch, and it collided with Scott's head _hard!_ He fell with a thud. Frantically, Warren crawled out from under the now limp body, pulling up his pants as he ran for Logan.

He'd never been to Logan's room before, and he had no idea where it was, but he ran blindly, his feet automatically taking him where he needed to be. He threw himself against the door that something in his subconscious told him was the right one, pounding frantically on it, calling for the older mutant in what was hardly more than a hoarse whisper, begging him to open the door.

After what felt like an eternity to Warren's panicked mind, but in reality was only a few seconds, Logan opened the door and Warren shoved passed him without waiting to be asking in.

"Warren? What the-?" Logan started to ask, but Warren didn't give him time to finish.

"You have to go," Warren said, frantically crossing the room and opening the top drawer in Logan's dresser, and began throwing clothes all over the room, "No, wait," he muttered, "No time for packing, you just have to go, now."

"Warren! Stop!" Logan said, grabbing the younger mutant by the shoulders, forcing him to stop moving. He took in the sight of the crazed boy, from his tousled, dirty hair, to his tear-filled, swollen eyes, to his freshly split lip, bruised cheek bone, and black eye, and right down to his torn shirt hanging oddly off of his far too thin frame, and his rumbled, hastily thrown on jeans.

"P-p-please," Warren begged brokenly, tears continually staining his cheeks, "You _have_ to go. He'll _kill_ you!"

Slowly, everything was beginning to come clear to Logan. "You never fell out of a tree, did you?" he asked, his dark eyes searching Warren's wide, crazed ones, "And you're not really _with_ Scott."

"Please," Warren begged, "Go! Before he wakes up. There's no time." He began to struggle in Logan's grasp, but not to get away from him, to push him towards the door.

Logan thought about arguing, about pointing out that he was harder to kill then most guys, and he had more than half a mind to go kill Scott himself, right then and there. But as he once more took in the sight of the shaking, broken, terrified boy before him, he came to yet another of his hasty, impulsive decisions.

"OK," he said slowly, not moving, "I'll go, but on one condition."

"There's no time!"

"Come with me!" Logan shouted over his protests. Warren stopped dead. "I'm not going to leave you here with… that. If you want me to go, I will, but you're coming too."

Warren stared dumbly at him for several long minutes. But the moment was broken as somewhere far down the hallway there was a loud crash, and coarse, slurred swearing, followed by heavy, enraged footsteps headed toward them.

Warren stopped breathing, for about the millionth time that night.

"Come with me," Logan wheedled, in a softer tone.

"A-alright," Warren agreed, struggling to inhale around the emotions swirling through him, "Now, go!"

Logan didn't waste any more time talking; he grabbed Warren by the arm and began propelling him toward the door. They took off down the hall running, ignoring Scott's shouting, his lumbering steps. Suddenly, explosive red laser streams where following, blowing huge chunks of plaster off of the wall just above their heads as they ran.

There were students poking their heads out of doors along the hallway. Several of them screamed. It was mass chaos.

One laser blast made a vase explode right next to Warren and Logan as they passed it, showering them with bits of glass. Warren faltered, blood dripping from a fresh cut on his forehead, shocked by the close hit. Logan skidded around, once more grabbing his arm, forcing him back into motion.

They reached the garage and Logan jumped onto the nearest thing with wheels and working motor, pulling Warren behind him.

Thankfully, it was his own bike, and he'd left the keys in the ignition. With a flick of his wrist, and a quick warning for Warren to hold on tight, Logan started her up, and they were off, fleeing away into the night air, oblivious to the shouts, curses, and screams echoing behind them.

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**And there you have it! But never fear, this is by no means the end. How awful would it be if I just stopped there? With no proper LoganxWarren cuteness at all? No, I wouldn't do that. Besides, we still need to see Scott get what he deserves, no? So, review, review, review, so that updates can come faster:D**


	15. Together

**I am sooooooo sorry for the long wait. Due to renovations in my houses my internet was disconnected. But, thank the gods, I have it back now. Trust me, the wait hurt me more than it did y'all. But, finally, here's the next chapter. Huge thanks to storyofgreen and Patricia16 for reviewing. Here it is, read, review, enjoy!**

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When Warren came to himself, it happened slowly, and took a long time for him to remember how and why he'd gotten to where ever he was. He opened his eyes to find the dirty, cracked ceiling of a dingy motel room. The only light in the room came streaming through the many cracks in the blinds covering the window that took up most of one wall. He was laying on a double bed, the sheets on which felt greasy under him, there was a TV sitting on a dresser across the room from him, a table with two chairs in the corner by the window, and a long, just as gross looking couch on the far wall. There were two doors, one on the same wall as the window, leading outside, Warren guessed, the other was smaller and looked more like a closet door, which Warren assumed led to the bathroom.

He sat up, and stopped, wincing. The pain was nothing new, but it brought back memories of the night before. The only one that came at first however, was the poisonous hiss of, '_We'll leave this place and start a new life together,'_ That was enough to make his heart start pounding painfully in his chest. He started to leap to his feet, but stopped, putting a hand to his head as a sudden wave of nausea swept over him.

But before he could panic too much, his fuzzy memory began to patch in the rest. Logan… that was right, he had left the institute, but not with Scott, with Mr. Logan.

Then he started to panic even more. Logan wasn't in the room. Where had he gone? Had he gone back to the institute? Had Scott found him? Had he decided that Warren wasn't worth the bother and abandoned him?

Warren began to pace the room frantically with worry as he struggled to breath. _Calm down,_ he told himself reasonably. But his body refused to listen.

He almost fell over when he heard the scrapping of a key and moments later the door opened and Logan walked in, whistling cheerfully.

"Great, you're up," he said, smiling. He held a newspaper in one hand and his jacket in the other.

"Y-yeah," he fumbled, feeling foolish for jumping to conclusions, but at the same time was finding it difficult to make his hands stop shaking.

"You must have been pretty beat," Logan observed, "I thought you were gonna sleep straight through the day. You hungry? Its almost dinner time."

"U-uh, yeah," Warren muttered. No one had ever asked him if he was hungry before. With his dad a butler or maid would come and tell him dinner was ready, and at the institute, it was pretty much up to him to make sure he got fed. Slowly, very slowly, the fact that his life had just turned upside down was beginning to dawn on him. Warren ran a hand uncomfortably through his hair, and frowned when dirt and bits of grass came away with it.

"M-maybe I should take a shower first," he said, blushing as he looked down at himself and realized he was still wearing the dirty, ripped up, slightly bloody clothes from the day before.

"Right," Logan agreed, "I had some spare clothes in the saddlebags," he said, motioning to the heap in one of the chairs, "They'll probably be huge on you, but it's all we have for now. We can go shopping after we eat."

"Great," Warren said, hastily grabbing the clothes and retreating into the bathroom, struggling to hide his blush.

Warren took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash over his aching body as he tried to process everything that this new development in his life would mean.

He made a mental list:

1.) No more Scott.

2.) Mr. Logan with him, constantly.

3.) Mr. Logan talking to him, constantly.

4.) Eating meals with Mr. Logan.

5.) Going shopping, with Mr. Logan.

6.) Living with Mr. Logan.

7.) Watching Mr. Logan walk.

8.) Watching Mr. Logan eat.

9.) Staring at Mr. Logan's ass.

10.) Kissing Mr. Logan.

11.)_ Not_ kissing Scott.

12.) Mr. Logan.

It was almost impossible to believe. Scott was really gone, and had been replaced by Mr.

Logan. Had he died and gone to heaven?

But no, he was alive, and this was real. It was just too amazing to believe.

Turning off the water he dried off and started getting dressed. Logan had been right; the clothes were way too big for him. The pants wouldn't even stay up unless the belt had been put on the tightest hole, and the old sweatshirt felt like a tent. But they were clothes. They were Mr. Logan's clothes. And as a bonus his wings didn't feel too cramped in the shirt.

At length he left the bathroom, hoping he wasn't blushing, but the was a rather futile hope as he was _always_ blushing around Mr. Logan.

"Ready?" Logan asked, smiling up at him. He'd settled on the bed and was reading the paper waiting for him.

Warren nodded and followed him shyly out of the motel room. Outside Warren looked around for Logan's bike, but didn't see it. Instead Logan started heading towards a older looking, in good shape but for a few rough patches on the paint job, pick up truck.

"Where'd your bike go?" Warren asked. He was immediately shocked at himself, amazed that he'd had the courage to ask the question, but then scolded himself, if he was going to be living with Mr. Logan now, he should be able to talk to him. Nonetheless, habit made him flinch slightly and his pulse quicken as he waited for a slap, whether verbally or physically.

Of course, none came. Logan merely shrugged, looking slightly awkward, as though embarrassed and said, "I sold it. Figured we might be living out of our bags for a while and there wasn't much luggage room on the bike."

"Oh," was Warren's meek reply. Cautiously he got into the passenger seat of the truck, trying hard to ignore the heat flaming in his cheeks.

"So, what do you want to eat?" Logan asked, starting the car and pulling away, "There's just about anything you like nearby, take your pick."

"I, um," he stuttered. If Warren wasn't used to be asked _whether_ he wanted to eat, he was even less familiar with being asked _what_ he wanted to eat. "I-I don't care," he finally managed, "You pick."

Logan gave him an odd look out of the corner of his eye, but shrugged and scanning the road they were traveling on, turned off into a strip mall. "This looks good," he said, parking in front of what looked to be a small, cozy, family owned café.


	16. The Plan

**Hey all! Once again sooo sorry about the wait. I got sidetracked and didn't manage to find my way out of Eclipse (New Stephenie Meyer book, if you don't read them, you should!) for a while. But I'm back now; I really am trying to be more consistant. Rayne told me this is his favorite chapter so far, mostly for the last line I think, so I hope y'all like it too. Anyways, here's the chapter. Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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When they entered the cafe a young, round-faced waitress smiled at them from behind the counter and said, "Pick a seat anywhere, I'll be right with you."

The café was empty but for an elderly couple and a single dad with two girls in flowered dresses liked they'd just come from some sort of party. Logan and Warren selected a small round table in the back corner next to the large window that took up most of the left wall.

A few minutes later the waitress appeared and, smiling a bit too cheerily in that way that waitresses have, handed them menus and asked if they knew what they'd like to drink.

Logan ordered a coke, and Warren imitated him. She paused a moment, giving Warren an odd look which made him blush self-consciously, before smiling again (She did that a lot), and promising to be right back to take their orders. They both then turned to perusing their menus in silence.

It was a rather awkward silence. Warren had no idea what to do or say. So he simply stared blankly at his menu, hiding his face shyly.

At length Logan cleared his throat. "The chili looks good," he said, in an attempted at conversation.

Warren nodded in agreement, forgetting that he was hiding behind his menu and therefore Logan couldn't see it.

The waitress returned again with their cokes before either of them had time to say anything else. "Are you ready to order?" she asked brightly, her pen already poised over her notepad.

Logan glanced at Warren, who'd reluctantly put down his menu, mourning the loss of his shield. "I'd like the American Classic Burger," Logan said, smiling at the waitress.

"Fries alright?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She then turned her slightly disconcerting smile on Warren, who seemed to shrink inside of himself. "And what would you like sweetie?" she asked, her voice slightly demeaning. As her gaze lingered for a moment over his bruised face, too thin frame, and ill-fitting clothes her smile faded just a touch, but she quickly shook herself and renewed the supposed-to-be comforting look.

"The same," Warren mumbled, not meeting her eyes and feeling extremely self-conscious.

"I'll have that right up," she said, giving them another smile and disappearing into the kitchen again.

Logan watched Warren fiddling intently with his napkin for several minutes, a slight grin spreading across the older mutant's face. "Do you intend to make a habit of that?"

Warren glanced up quickly, with a rather deer-in-headlights look. "Do what?" he asked.

"Mimic everything thing I do," Logan replied.

Warren blushed furiously. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered.

"It's alright," Logan told him, chuckling slightly and leaning forward a bit, "But it is okay to have your own opinion you know."

Warren began to carefully study his hands, which were now clasped in his lap. "I-I know," he stammered, blushing even more. It really was amazing just how much that boy could blush. "I'm just not used to-to being asked… and stuff," he finished lamely.

Logan was taken aback. He was just beginning to realize what kind of life Warren must have had so far, between his father, and then Scott. He watched the younger mutant fiddle anxiously for several minutes, and a faint, worried line appeared between his eyebrows. Just how messed up was this kid?

"So..." Logan said after several long, awkwardly silent minutes, "You sleep alright?"

Warren nodded. The silence continued. Warren was fiddling with his napkin again, his eyes carefully downcast. At length he opened his mouth to speak. It seemed he had been spending some time working up the courage to ask his question, and even so it took him a few tries to get the words out right. "Y-you-you, um, you said that we'd be-be on the road... a while," he stammered, still not looking at Logan.

"Yeah, well, its not exactly like we made a plan before we left," Logan said, "Figured we'd travel around for a while, see the sights or something, you know." Should he tell Warren? No, he didn't want to alarm the boy, better to just play it cool.

Warren glanced up at Logan for the briefest moment. "Scott's following us, isn't he?" he said quietly.

Damn, that boy was perceptive! "No," Logan lied quickly.

Warren sighed. "I knew it couldn't be that easy," he muttered, leaning back in his chair and staring out of the window, blinking rapidly.

"I'm not gonna let him ever get near you again, you know that right?" Logan said seriously, leaning forward towards the younger mutant, "I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore."

Warren just nodded, his eyes still over bright, though his profuse blinking managed to stop the tears from falling. "H-he isn't here, is he? Not anywhere nearby?"

"Of course not," Logan soothed quickly, "I made sure we gave him the slip long before we stopped last night."

"But he'll track us down," Warren said, it wasn't a question.

"Most likely, if he's really as determined as you say," Logan had to agree, "That's why we're gonna keep moving around for a while. Eventually he'll have to give up."

"He won't," Warren whispered, "He'll never give up, not until you're dead, not until I'm his again."

"You never were _his_, and you never will be, Warren," Logan said sternly.

At that moment the waitress reappeared with their food, stopping Warren from replying. She smiled that unceasing smile at them, though she seemed a little nervous as she glanced from Warren to Logan, then set their food down quickly and retreated back behind the counter.

Warren kept his eyes on the table and meekly began to dig into his food.

Logan was still watching him, his eyes dark with concern. "Warren?" he said quietly. Warren didn't stop meticulously picking at his food. "Warren!" Logan said more sternly, putting out a hand to stop Warren's constant nervous movement.

Warren looked up at him and Logan was suddenly powerfully struck with the wide-eyed alarm that was always present in the younger mutant's sapphire orbs, the constant fear, worry, and pain.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, kid," Logan said again, emphasizing every sound with earnestness as he forced Warren to meet his eyes, "I'm taking care of you now. You don't have to be afraid. All you have to do is trust me."

Warren blinked at him, swallowing hard. His hand was trembling slightly under Logan's grasp, and the vibrations didn't pass Logan's observation. Logan could almost read the younger mutant's thoughts in his face. He wanted to trust Logan, he wanted to more than anything, but he was afraid to, afraid of getting hurt again, afraid of getting Logan hurt. Warren was afraid to be happy.

Finally Warren looked away, nodding. "Thank you," he whispered quietly, and this time he was unable to stop a tear or two from slipping out of the corners of his eyes.

Logan smiled and sat back in satisfaction. "So, Warren, what's your favorite color?" he asked as he began to dig heartily into his food, unable to stop grinning.


	17. Shopping!

**Hey all, here's chapter 17, yay! I personally am rather quite fond of this chapter, I enjoyed writing it a lot, it made me laugh, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much. Huge thanks to storyofgreen and Patricia16 for reviewing that past two chapters (Sorry I forgot to thank y'all last time). So, here it is, and no, the silk shirt is not random, it will have a significance at the end. Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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They spent the rest of dinner talking and getting to know each other better. They even started a sort of game of it, asking each other random questions about themselves. As time wore on Warren relaxed and they became more comfortable around each other. Warren even laughed, quite a bit, actually. Apparently Logan had developed a talent for comedy, or maybe Warren only laughed so much out of relief that he _could_ laugh, that he _could_ be happy now. Whatever the reason, Logan was just glad to see the boy happy. 

Once they'd paid for their meal they went shopping, and found themselves at the nearest mall.

It felt strange to Warren, surreal, walking around the mall, next to Mr. Logan, laughing and joking, like… like _normal_ people.

Almost before they realized it, it was nearly ten o'clock and the mall was getting ready to close. They'd each bought several outfits, suitcases to carry them in, some other necessities, and some things that weren't so necessary, including several books, as Logan had insisted on buying every book Warren showed even the slightest interest in, despite the younger mutant's protests.

"You'll need something to entertain yourself with, what with all the driving," Logan had told him practically, so Warren had relented.

They were heading back toward the truck, licking their ice cream cones, which Logan had excused getting by teasingly telling Warren, "I don't want to wake up one morning and find that you've wasted right away. Besides, I want some," the last part he'd add with an extra grin.

They'd almost reached the door when suddenly Warren stopped, staring at something through a department store window.

"What is it?" Logan asked, peering over his shoulder. Warren just grinned, grabbed the last remains of Logan's ice cream cone and discarding it in the nearest trashcan, before grabbing his hand and dragging him into the store. He grabbed something off of the rack right by the door, and thrusting it into Logan's hands shoved him into the dressing room.

"Try," he ordered.

Logan was quite surprised by Warren's sudden boldness, and even more surprised when he looked down at what he held.

It was a shirt, black and silky, with long sleeves and buttons all the way up the front, definitely not something Logan would have normally worn.

"Warren?" he called through the dressing room door.

"Just trust me," Warren's voice floated back, and from his tone Logan could tell the younger mutant was smiling. So, with a sigh, Logan removed his usual wife-beater and flannel shirt, sliding the silk on.

When he emerged Warren was waiting impatiently. "Do you like it?" he asked breathlessly, looking anxious despite his grin.

Logan turned to examine himself in the mirror, raising a critical eyebrow. It was a nice shirt, fitting, with a certain elegance to it that Logan usually didn't care for. But seeing Warren's expression in the mirror, a comical mix between nerves at Logan's pending reaction and pleasure, making apparent his opinion of how Logan looked in the shirt, Logan felt a grin creeping over his own face and had to admit, it did look good on him.

At Logan's grin Warren all but jumped up and down with excitement, throwing his arms around Logan's neck and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Immediately afterward he froze, shocked with himself, but Logan just grinned, kissing him back before leading him up to the cash register.

8

The entire ride back to the motel Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing sidelong at Warren every chance he got. The younger mutant was practically glowing as he held the bag with the silk shirt in it on his lap, and Logan though his face might crack from the grin he couldn't control. There was just something about Warren's smile that made something tighten in his chest, something that made him feel that everything in the world was just fine.

As soon as they got back to their motel room, Warren shoved the bag at Logan, half blushing, half grinning. "Put it on?" he asked.

With an exaggerated sigh, and a teasing grin Logan took the bag and disappeared into the bathroom for a minute. When he returned Warren was sitting on the bed waiting for him. He blushed as Logan put out his arms and twirled to show off the shirt, ending the motion in a dramatic bow.

"I-it looks really good on you," Warren stammered, his cheeks glowing.

"Only because you picked it out," Logan whispered, leaning in closely and gently capturing Warren's lips with his. Warren gasped in slight surprise, which only served to leave an opening for Logan's tongue to snake into his mouth, not that Warren really minded.

Logan deepened the kiss, gently pushing Warren down on the bed, running his hands up and down the younger mutants lithe frame.

Warren closed his eyes, embracing the warm feeling of Logan on top of him, Logan's large hands tracing along his back and sides, Logan's tongue tracing the inside of his mouth. He relaxed, loosing himself in the feeling, letting his body move of its own accord.

Logan pulled away for the briefest moment as he pulled Warren's shirt over his head. By now Warren was half way through unbuttoning the silk shirt. As soon as the shirts were gone Logan once more pressed himself to Warren, and Warren welcomed him eagerly.

Warren kept his eyes closed, his insides humming. It was almost too good to be true; here he was, with Mr. Logan.

Warren was loosing himself in the feeling when suddenly the kiss changed. It began rougher, harder, and horribly familiar. A face, _that_ face flash through Warren's mind, and with a cry he leapt up, wildly pushing the other body away from him.

"Warren? Warren!" Logan's upset voice pierced through the pain that had suddenly enveloped Warren's mind.

Warren wrapped his arms around himself, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to regain control of himself. "I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-orry," he stuttered, his voice choked with pain as he struggled to draw breath around his wracking sobs.

"It's alright," Logan said soothingly, trying to put a comforting hand on Warren's shoulder, but the younger mutant flinched away reflexively. "I'm the one who should be sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Why?" Warren whispered, wiping uselessly at his eyes as the tears continued to run, "I was so-so h-happy, if just for a few hours. Why do I still have to think about h-h-him?"

"Shh," Logan soothed, pulling Warren gently into his embrace, holding his trembling body close while he cried, "You've been through a lot. You just have to give it time."

"I-I want it g-gone now!" Warren didn't care that he sounded childish, in fact he hardly noticed, "I want _him_ gone now!"

Logan could do nothing but just continue holding Warren, gently rocking him back and forth and trying to sooth him.

At last Warren calmed and pulled away reluctantly from Logan's arms, wiping his face.

"I'm sor-" he started, sniffing loudly, but Logan stopped him.

"Don't even say it," Logan warned, putting a finger to Warren's lips. Warren just looked away. "We've both had a long day," Logan said gently, "We should get some rest."

Warren nodded and climbed obediently under the blanket that Logan pulled back for him. He watched as Logan grabbed the extra blanket at the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked sleepily.

"Getting ready for bed," Logan answered, stating the obvious.

"But-" Warren started, glancing around. There was only one bed.

"Don't worry," Logan said, catching the look, "This couch is plenty comfortable."

"But, you don't have to… I mean…" Warren fumbled. He was blushing again. "There's plenty of room in the bed."

Logan looked a little uncomfortable and Warren immediately feared he'd done something wrong. "Warren, I don't think that that's the best idea just now," he said slowly, as though carefully choosing his words.

"Right, I'm sorry," Warren mumbled, "I didn't mean to-"

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Logan finished.

Warren's head shot up. "Uncomfortable, no, I-" but his voice trailed off, remembering what had happened only moments before and realizing what Logan was talking about. "R-right," he agreed sadly, nodding his head. "Well, uh, night," and with that he laid down, pulling the blanket over his head and praying Logan didn't see the tears beginning to fill his eyes again.

"Night," Logan replied, his tone clearly saying that he wished there was something else he could say, something to make the younger mutant feel better. But he said nothing more; he simply turned out the light, lay down on the couch, and was snoring within minutes.

8

Sometime later Warren woke with a start. He sat up in bed, one hand clutching his throat as though to silence the quiet sobs forcing their way out of his mouth. His panted, shivering violently, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Damn, why did he always have to cry? He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the tears to stop, waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

The dream he'd been having was little more than a blurred haze now, only one face sticking out in his memory, and that was enough. He still trembled with terror from it, despite his best efforts to still himself.

He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and curling in on himself, willing the shaking to stop.

He felt cold, so cold. But this was a cold that no amount of warm blankets could banish, this cold was deeper, beneath his skin.

He raised his head, glancing about the room, and his eyes landed inevitably on Logan, stretched out on the couch under his blanket, snoring softly. He looked so peaceful, oblivious, _warm_. Without even thinking about it Warren crawled out of the bed and silently tiptoed across the room, stopping in front of the couch. He paused a moment, frozen in awe at the beauty of Logan's face, illuminated by a few moonbeams falling into the room from the cracks in the blinds over the windows. Then, carefully, and without really thinking about it, he lifted one of Logan's arms, and folded himself down on the couch.

In his sleep, Logan ran his hand absently through Warren's hair and down to his wings before wrapping his arm around the younger mutant and cradling him gently to his chest, without once waking up.

A small smile spread across Warren's face as he snuggled into Logan's chest and was dead asleep in seconds.


	18. The Start Of Something New

**Hey all, here's the next chapter! Yay! Huge thanks to StoryofGreen and Patricia16 for reviewing. This chapter is pretty much just filler, but it gets good again soon, I promise. So, read, review, enjoy!**

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The next morning Logan woke and was surprised to find a small, peacefully breathing body laying on his chest. He blinked and shook his head to clear the sleep from his eyes. He had to smile at how cute Warren looked, for once peaceful, for once not trembling with fear, not avoiding meeting the eyes of those around him, or flinching as though expecting to be hit.

Warren was sprawled on his stomach on the couch, laying half on top of Logan, his left hand dangling over the edge of the couch, intertwined, Logan realized with a smile, with Logan's own hand, which was also trailing on the floor. Warren's beautiful, pearly wings were halfway unfolded, spread out over the two in a warm, downy blanket.

Gently Logan lifted his free hand and ran it through Warren's hair, his fingers gliding over the cut on Warren's forehead and caressing his cheek.

His heart both ached with sorrow and flared with angry hate when he thought about all that the younger mutant had gone through to leave him bruised so, both physically and emotionally.

But his thoughts didn't have the chance to go much farther than that as Warren stirred under his gentle touch.

Warren sighed, taking a deep breath of contentment as he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked several times, breathing deeply the musky scent of Logan's chest. When his eyes focused, the first thing he saw was his hand intertwined with Logan's. A blush colored his pale cheeks as slowly his gaze traveled up to Logan's face. The blush only intensified when he saw that Logan too was awake and watching him. He pushed himself up so quickly that he all but fell off of the couch, flapping his wings slightly to regain his balance.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he muttered quickly, not looking at Logan. "It-, um, I got cold," he stammered his excuses.

Logan laughed, sitting up and drawing Warren back to him. "If you really wanted me to stay with you last night you could have just said," he chuckled.

Warren nodded, his eyes on the ground.

Logan sighed, deciding that it was going to take a lot of patience to convince Warren to be comfortable around him. But that was alright, it was understandable after all. So he smiled, giving Warren a quick kiss on the lips he whispered, "Good morning."

Warren smiled a bit, biting his lip. "'Morning," he muttered back.

"Ready for some breakfast, kid?" Logan asked, standing up and stretching.

Warren nodded mutely, though he didn't move, he was too busy staring at Logan's bare chest.

Logan laughed, (Warren of course blushed profusely at being caught), and taking Warren's hand pulled him to his feet.

Warren retreated into the bathroom to change, while Logan just stayed in the main room. Once both were dressed they packed up their things and checked out of the motel. They ate breakfast in a waffle house down the road. Amazingly Warren actually ordered something different than Logan did, which Logan laughingly teased him about, making Warren blush.

Then they hit the road. Warren didn't know where they were going, Logan hadn't said, and he didn't ask. For the first several hours Warren sat silently. He had one of the books Logan had bought him resting in his lap, but he didn't open it. Instead gazed absently out of the window, every so often glancing covertly at Logan, who pretended not to notice, hiding his grin.

It was nearly one when they stopped for lunch and to stretch their legs. After lunch Warren did begin to read, though he still watched Logan out of the corner of his eye, almost as if he didn't, Logan might disappear at any second. They stopped once more for dinner, then found a motel. They watched some TV, talked some about this and that, then settled down to bed, Warren safely cradled in Logan's arms.

This was the beginning of a pattern. Their days followed much the same as the first after that. Warren still dreamed at night. Sometimes he woke Logan by crying out, or thrashing, sometimes he just sat and cried silently. He smiled and laughed every chance he got, always pressing himself as close to Logan as was possible, especially when they were walking around whatever town they'd stopped at, often bumping into him without meaning to. Whenever this happened Logan would just smile and take his hand, usually kissing him quickly on the lips.

Logan never tried to do much more than that, a quick kiss on the lips in the morning or right before they went to sleep, now and then throughout the day. Holding him close and kissing his forehead when he was upset after a dream. And for that Warren was in part grateful, in part saddened by. He didn't want a repeat of the disaster of that first night, but he wished that they didn't have to be so careful with each other. He longed for Logan to kiss him deeply and passionately, but feared how his body and mind would react if they tried. So he let it be.

Sometimes they would stay more than one night at a place. At those times Logan would often leave for several hours, sometimes in the morning before Warren woke (he always left a note promising to be back soon when this happened), sometimes in the afternoon, or evening. Warren never asked where he went at those times, there were a lot of things Warren didn't ask about.

One night, just over a week since they'd left the institute, Logan returned to their motel room rather late. Warren was of course awake and waiting for him.

The younger mutant was sitting up in the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest with his wings wrapped around him.

"Hey," Logan said quietly, leaning over and kissing him before heading toward the bathroom, "You didn't have to wait up," he said over his shoulder.

"I know," Warren replied, and from his meek tone and the way his eyes flickered away uncomfortably, Logan realized he'd probably been thinking about Scott, and therefore was unable to sleep.

A few minutes later Logan came back out of the bathroom in his pajama pants, halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. Warren hadn't moved.

"Warren?" he asked softly, tossing his dirty clothes aside carelessly and leaning over the bed, gently grabbing Warren's chin and forcing him to meet his eyes, "Is something wrong?"

Warren shook his head, avoiding Logan's eyes, and Logan knew he was lying.

"What is it?" he persisted, trying to look Warren in the eyes.

Warren swallowed biting his lip and turning his head even farther away. "You've been drinking," he said quietly after a moment.

"Yeah," Logan confirmed slowly.

"He… Scott," he corrected himself, though a slight shiver passed up his spine at the name, "Used to drink a lot." _Oh._

"I'm sorry," Logan said softly, "I didn't mean to-"

"Its OK," Warren cut him off.

"I'm sorry," Logan said again, before getting up and going to brush his teeth and shave. By the time he came back Warren was laying down, his back to him, and the blanket pulled up tightly.

Logan slid into the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around the younger mutant and placing a light kiss on his shoulder blade, just above his wing.

"Its OK," Warren said again, his voice slightly muffled.

All the same, after that Logan didn't drink anymore, or at least, if he did, Warren never knew about it.


	19. The Thrill Of Flight

**Hey all! Huge thanks to StoryofGreen and Patricia16 for reviewing. So, this whole chapter is basically fluff, yay! Hope you like it. Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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Warren sighed, gazing absently out of the window of their motel room at the torrential down pour going on out side.

"Something wrong?" Logan asked, watching Warren in the mirror.

It was late afternoon, but they'd been driving for most of the night the night before, so Logan had been asleep most of the day. He was now shaving, getting ready to go out to… whatever it was he did, Warren assumed.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but knowing Logan wouldn't accept that answer he continued, "I was just hoping I'd be able to go out flying today." He did that sometimes, when they were settled down and Logan was out, he'd go out for a fly. That was the one thing he missed in his new life, the chance to fly as much as he'd used to.

"You know, you still haven't taken me up," Logan said conversationally, drying his face and approaching Warren, grabbing his keys. He was about to leave. Warren hated it when he left, not that he said anything. He felt selfish for it, but he hated being alone. It had been two weeks since they'd left the institute now, the bruises on Warren's body had nearly faded, and still Warren was unable to escape certain parts of his old life, and when Logan was gone, he was left to nothing but his thoughts, and sometimes that could be a dangerous thing.

Logan picked up on Warren's glum expression. "The storm is supposed to clear up before too long. How about I finish this up quick and come home early and we can go flying together. How's that sound?"

Warren gave him a small smile and nodded. "Sounds good," he said quietly.

"Good," Logan said, kissing him gently and daringly holding the kiss for a moment longer than usual. Warren watching him through the window as he pulled away in the truck, then glanced up at the sky and prayed that the storm would clear up soon.

Several hours later Warren reclined on the bed, the remains of the pizza he'd had for dinner sitting beside him as he absently flipped through the channels on the TV. He jumped at nearly every sound from outside, hoping it was Logan returning.

Finally he settle on some old black and white romance movie and tried not to think too much. He must have dozed off as he woke with a start when Logan gently touched his shoulder. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and wondering what time it was. The movie, which had just been starting when he'd started watching it was running the ending credits and the clock on the bedside table said quarter to nine.

"I'm sorry that took so long," Logan said, running a hand through his hair tiredly, "And I'm afraid we'll have to stay here a little longer."

"It's alright," Warren said, giving him the gentle smile he always did.

"But on a brighter note, the storm's cleared up," Logan informed him. To Warren's joy he was right and the sky was now littered with stars.

"Do you still want to go up tonight?" Warren asked, subconsciously stretching his wings.

"If you'll still take me," Logan replied.

Warren grinned happily and stood, taking Logan's hand and leading him out of the motel room. They went out to a deserted alley behind the motel and Warren stopped, holding out his arms to Logan. "You'll have to hold on to me," he said, blushing a little.

"Are you sure you can carry me?" Logan asked, a bit dubiously as he eyed Warren's thin body.

Warren grinned, "Of course."

"All right then," Logan said, still not looking fully convinced, but stepping trustingly into Warren's embrace all the same.

Warren flexed his powerful wings and Logan closed his eyes against the downdraft from the movement. Then, with a swooping rush they were airborne. Warren felt his body relax into the familiar joy of flight as he soared higher.

Logan didn't open his eyes until they were far above the ground. He gazed down at the city lights passing below them in wonderment, enjoying the ride. The higher they went, the further away from the bright city lights, the brighter the stars became until they were surrounded by the beautiful celestial lights.

Warren seemed to be enjoying the flight too; Logan noticed when he glanced at the younger mutants face. And suddenly, despite the beauty of the scenery around them, Logan was unable to tear his eyes away from the sight was Warren's vague smile as his eyes drank in the sky, his wings moving automatically, pushing them higher and higher. It was the happiest Logan had ever seen him, and that alone was enough for Logan to wish it would never end.

But, as all good things do, it did end. Warren landed back in the alley they had started in, grinning ear to ear.

Logan couldn't stop himself from pausing to admire Warren for a moment. He seemed to be glowing in the moonlight, the flight having almost empowered him.

"Did you like it?" Warren asked. He was breathing heavily, but from happiness, not exertion.

Logan answered by sweeping the younger mutant into a passionate kiss. Warren gasped slightly in pleasure and melted into the kiss, eagerly returning it. Logan, not wanting to bring the night to ruin by going to far started to pull back, but to his surprise Warren daringly clung to him, even going so far as to run his tongue gently across Logan's lips.

Logan wonderingly obliged by opening his mouth and allowing Warren to enter. It was the longest kiss they had shared so far, but in the end Warren regretfully pulled away, blushing furiously.

There was a short, slightly awkward silence in which they smiled at each other, both out of breath.

"That made it even better," Logan whispered after a moment. Warren blushed harder.

Once back inside their room Logan quickly excused himself to the shower, where he made sure the temperature was as cold as it would go. Meanwhile Warren cleared away his pizza leftovers, going to take his own shower once Logan was done.

After they had both showered they curled up together in bed.

"That was really great," Logan whispered, wrapping his arm around Warren's waist. Warren blushed again.

"I'm glad you liked it," he whispered back. Logan laid a gentle kiss where Warren's wings met with his back.

"Goodnight," he breathed.

"Night," Warren murmured back, already falling away into a comfortable, peaceful sleep.


	20. Sail Away

**Hey all. So, holy wow, chapter twenty already! Wow! I really love this story so much. However, oh god do I **_**HATE**_** writer's block. Couple that with an ungodly obsession with the anime Bleach that leaves me utterly helpless to think of anything else, and that kind of leaves other things left out in the cold. (Tears) I'm really really really sorry. Fortunately, I have another chapter that I'd already written after this one, so y'all have at least another week before my unfortunate situation is actually bothersome for you. I will try my very best to move on soon, I promise. On another note, I also promise that after this it will be more or less nothing but fluff until the end. A fact which pleased Rayne, as he's getting rather tired of my constant 'emoness'. Anyways, huge thanks to my faithful reviewers StoryofGreen, endiahna, and Patricia16. OK, on with the chapter! Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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He was floating, he was safe, he was warm. Everything was dark, completely dark. He was surrounded in empty, blissful, nothingness; he was surrounded by everything that was Logan. It was a kind of sleep that Warren had never felt before Logan came into his life, and it was a kind of sleep that Warren would never feel outside of Logan's arms. It was pure, wholesome, and beautiful.

But then it was gone. The warmth, the dark, the peace. He felt himself fall into a dream, one he knew he wouldn't like.

He kept his eyes clinched tight, the dream was just on the other side of his lids, and he was in no hurry to greet it. But he could only stall for so long and eventually his eyes opened themselves against his will.

The bright light that suddenly surrounded him left him severely disoriented for sometime. And before he could fully recover himself, he felt rough hands grabbing him, and he knew for certain which dream this was.

He heard a tiny whimper that could have only come from himself as the rough hands lifted him to his feet. He coward away from the touch, clenching his eyes again, he didn't want to see this; he didn't want to feel this, not again.

But the hands didn't stop, and soon the lips joined them. Warren waited, trying not to cry out. He just had to wait it out, like he always had done, just wait and it would be over soon.

But then a voice broke through the pain. Warren couldn't understand what the voice was saying, but he knew who's it was. He almost sighed in relief. Logan would save him, Logan would stop the dream, it was all over.

But then he realized that Logan's voice was _in_ the dream. The hands had let go of him, Scott had said something back to Logan, but still Warren couldn't make out the words. He wanted to open his eyes, he wanted to see what was happening, but he's body refused to obey. And so he was forced simply to remain where he was, struggling to make sense of the garbled sounds that surrounded him.

Then there was a flash of red light so bright that he could see it even through his eyelids. Warren screamed, and screamed again, and again.

He woke up still screaming, so loudly that practically the entire motel room was shaking with him. He huddled on the bed, his mind scrambling in panic, his breath coming in short, painful gasps.

It took a long time for him to calm down enough to open his eyes and take in the room around him.

It was empty. Logan was nowhere in sight. Warren spotted a note on the table, but didn't have to read it; he could already guess what it said.

_Gone to finish my business. I'll try to hurry. Maybe we can go flying again tonight._

_Love, Logan_

Warren took several more steadying breaths. He decided to take a shower, that would calm him down.

And sure enough, as he left the steamy bathroom he did feel calmer, a little bit. His stomach rumbled and he eyed the leftover pizza from the night before. It didn't look very appetizing. Besides that, he still felt haunted by his nightmare, so he decided that perhaps a little fresh air would be good for him.

With that decision made, he got dressed, and hesitantly left the motel room.

Mistake, big one.

He rarely left their motel room without Logan, only when the need for the freshness only high altitude air can have forced him to. He always felt nervous and uncomfortable, twitchy.

Nevertheless, he continued determinedly for the Dunkin' Doughnuts just down the road. He had made it as far as the edge of the motel parking lot the first time it happened. Just a flash out of the corner of his eye, the barest flicker of something. Warren jumped, whirled, saw nothing, told himself to calm down, and continued walking.

It happened, over and over again, about every few feet. He struggled to ignore it, he at least didn't jump and whirl around after the first few times, but nevertheless, by the time he reached the Dunkin' Doughnuts he was extremely twitchy and rather out of breath.

He got his doughnut and coffee quickly and had to force himself to walk at a normal pace as he retreated back to their room.

When he arrived at his sanctuary he all but slammed the door behind him and locked it. It took him several minutes to slow his breathing back to normal again.

Most days, he would have been more or less all right going out for so short a time alone, but with the dream so fresh in his mind, he was a lot more jumpy than usual.

Pointedly ignoring the images his mind was trying to torture him with, Warren flopped himself down on the bed again and flipped on the TV. He tried to be nonchalant and relaxed, he tried to tell himself that everything was fine.

But it wasn't. It still lurked, in the back of his mind; waiting for the second he let his guard down so that it could pounce. The memories, the fear, the pain, but he refused it. Logan had helped him build up his defenses, and Logan helped him to refuse to give in.

However, as hard as he tried, eventually, he did slip up, and the darkness converged on him.

_"There you are, my pet,"_ whispered a voice, that horrible, awful, most hateful voice.

"No," Warren pleaded, staring wildly around the room suddenly, trying to see where the voice had come from.

_"I've been looking for you,"_ Scott continued.

"No, go away!" Warren insisted, jumping off of the bed. Quickly he rushed to the bathroom, pulled open the closet, even checked under the bed. He tore the room apart, pulling pillow and sheets from the bed, throwing everything his hands met, determined to find the source of the voice.

At length he breathed a soft sigh of relief, sure that Scott wasn't actually in the room, but that relief lasted for half of a millisecond before he put his hands to his head and cried out in frustration, fear, and pain. Scott was in his head! Even his mind was no longer safe! Was there no place he could go where Scott couldn't follow?

_"I've missed you."_

"Go away," he whispered.

_"Why did you run away from me?"_

"Stop it!"

_"I love you."_

"Leave. Me. Alone!"

_"I love your voice, Warren, it's so beautiful, so nice to listen to."_  
Warren didn't say anything; he just clutched his head and tried to force the voice away.

_"I love your hair too, it's so soft, and smells so go."_

Then a crazy thought came to him. It was crazy, it was dangerous, it was wrong, but he didn't care, as long as it worked. Warren leaped to his feet, practically tripping over himself as he hurried to Logan's bag. Logan kept a hunting knife in the outside pocket, why Warren had never understood since Logan always had his own knifes on him, but that day Warren was glad. He grabbed the knife and was about to start hacking at his hair, when Scott spoke again.

_"I love your skin too, it's so soft, so warm, so beautiful."_

So Warren switched the direction of the knife and slashed at his arm instead. He cried out as the blood began to flow, but didn't stop. Any pain was better than Scott, so he slashed again, and again. His arms, his chest, his legs.

But the Scott voice had one more thing to say. _"But most of all, Warren, my pet, I love your wings. The wings of an angel, because that's what you are, an angel, my angel."_

"I'm not!" Warren screamed, and without even thinking about his, raised the knife and began to hack at his wing. That hurt more than anything and he cried at he did it, but he never stopped, his hand never faltered. Then, the bone cracked, and broken, and his beautiful, pearly wing fell onto the carpet in a bloody mass of feathers, but he didn't stop there, next he went for the other wing.

He was wingless, bleeding, his throat was raw from crying, he was shaking so violently he could hardly maintain his hold on the knife.

He gasped for breath, and as soon as his legs would hold him, he stood. Slowly he made he way across the shambled room to the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. There he stood for a long time. He had at some point ripped off his shirt, and now his chest could be seen in all of its bloody glory. He stood there and stared, examining his face, still shadowed with bruises from his last night at the Institute, his chest, his arms. He felt the blood coursing down his back from the stumps that had once been his wings, and the knife still dangled from his hand.

"Love me now," he whispered angrily, as tears began to once more trace their way down his cheeks.

_"Oh trust me, pet, I still do,"_ the voice, poisonously sweet hissed back, and Warren saw behind himself in the mirror the face that haunted his dreams. _"You're still mine, you always will be."_

"No!" Warren yelled, the hand not holding the knife curling into a fist, "I was _never_ yours!" And with that his hand flew up and shattered the mirror into a thousand pieces; he didn't even flinch when the shards struck him.

_"You will always be mine."_ The voice was fading as it said the words, but Warren didn't care.

He decided that perhaps he hadn't done a good enough job. So once more he gripped the knife and began to cut.

He felt the blood pooling at his feet, as though he was drowning in it. He _wished_ he was drowning in it. He was falling, falling, fading away into nothing. His vision had gone black sometime ago, he couldn't be sure if he was still standing or not, he wasn't even sure if he still held the knife. He felt nothing but pain, pain, and more pain; it filled him, consuming the emptiness inside. He heard nothing but Scott's voice, crooning sweet words of false love in his ear.

But just as he was sliding away for good, another voice came, forcing the bad one away. This was a sweet voice, a kind voice, a loving voice, a panicked voice, the voice Warren loved more than anything in the world.

"Warren? Warren!" Logan called, "Warren, please, put down the knife."

Warren dropped the knife he wasn't even really aware of still holding, although whether due to Logan's command or because he was no longer strong enough to maintain his grip on it was impossible to tell.

Logan continued speaking, though the exacted words passed Warren and faded into a blur of soothing noise. He thought about coming back, about refusing the darkness to go to Logan. He tried to open his eyes, tried to speak, to tell Logan that he was alright. But his body simply refused to obey.

The last thing Warren heard was, "Hold on, Warren, please hold on." Then there was nothing.


	21. The Reason

**Hey all, so this is the last chapter I have already written, so lets pray the writer's block passes soon. I'm so so so so sorry about the long update wait, things have been crazy lately, what with school starting and everything, so I hope you'll forgive me. Huge thanks to Patricia16 and StoryOfGreen for reviewing! This chapter's kinda short, but it's just some fluffy angstiness. The next chapter will probably just be fluffy filler :) Read, Review, Enjoy!**

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He felt so heavy, so impossibly heavy it was amazing that… whatever he was laying on didn't break under him. And tired, he was so tired. He hurt, everywhere, but it was a distant, detached pain, as though it wasn't quite him who was feeling it.

He struggled to open his eyes, and found himself in a hospital room lit only by the few moonbeams the fought their way in through the small window beside his bed. Slowly he turned his head to take in more of his surroundings, and his eyes found the only face he had any interest in seeing.

"Logan," he whispered, a soft smile creeping across his lips.

Logan jumped, startled out of a half doze, and straightened, blinking down at Warren.

Warren's smile widened just a touch, though it looked odd and pathetic in his scarred face, and he tried to reach his arms up to Logan, waiting for his loving embrace. His arms however refused to move, and Logan didn't embrace him, he just sat there, not quite looking at Warren.

"Logan?" he whispered again, his voice trembling just a touch. He didn't understand; why wouldn't Logan hold him? That was all he wanted, his entire being focused on simply longing for Logan's touch.

"Why'd you do it?" Logan asked softly, still not looking at Warren. His voice was not angry, it was sad, and deeply disappointed, and cut Warren to the heart.

"D-do what?" he stammered in surprise.

Logan stared at him incredulously. "Try to… I mean, I know you've had it hard and everything, but I thought you were doing better, I thought… I thought we were doing good," Warren was shocked to see that Logan's eyes were over bright with unshed tears, "Why did you try to kill yourself?"

Warren was even more shocked, so much so that his answer slipped out of his already hanging open mouth without his even thinking about it. "I didn't," he said in surprise.

"Then what the hell was that?" Logan demanded, slamming his fist down on the bed next to Warren's hand.

Warren shrank away from Logan in surprise and a touch of fear. His eyes had gone impossibly wide and he felt tears coming to his own eyes. He opened his mouth to stutter out an answer, but no words came.

Logan seemed shocked and ashamed of himself immediately and he withdrew quickly on reflex. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice carefully soft and gentle, "I shouldn't have snapped like that." Still Warren didn't seem to be able to un-stick his throat. "You had me really worried, kid," Logan continued, his voice deep with the emotions he was habitually struggling to keep in check.

"I-I-Its h-h-h-him," Warren at last managed to force out, tears flooding along with them. "I-I-I s-s-see him e-e-everywhere. I-I-I-in my-my dreams, out of, out of the c-c-corner of my eye, o-on the st-street, in the-the mirror. E-e-e-everyw-w-where."

Logan looked stricken.

"Th-the only pl-place he isn't," Warren mumbled last, not looking at Logan, "Is in-in your arms."

At that Logan melted completely and wrapped his arms firmly around the younger mutant, holding him while he sobbed. "I guess I'll just have to never let you go then," Logan whispered, just loud enough so that Warren could hear him.

Warren's entire body shook with the force of his sobs as he clung desperately to Logan, his fingers curled into Logan's shirt so that the older mutant couldn't pull away even if he'd wanted to.

It took a long time for Warren to calm down again, but Logan waited patiently, holding, crooning softly in his ear. When at last he had cried himself out he lay limply in Logan's arms, barely conscious. Slowly Logan began to ease Warren back down on the bed so that he could sleep, but as he pulled away Warren's fingers tightened convulsively. So Logan, as gently as possible, settled Warren back down and laid down next to him.

"I'm sorry," Warren whispered into Logan's shirt after several long minutes of silence, "I didn't mean to scare you. And I really wasn't planning on killing myself."

Logan just held him closer. He had no intention of pushing Warren to relive whatever had happened, he was content just to have his love safe in his arms.

But Warren continued, "I heard his voice, in my head, like he was there. He-he," Warren faltered, his eyes filling again, but he firmly pushing back the tears, "He told me that he loved me, then he started to list things about me that he loved. I-I thought, that maybe, if I destroyed everything about myself that he loved, he would leave me alone. That he would leave _us_ alone."

"Things like… your wings," Logan whispered softly.

Warren nodded into his shirt, biting his trembling lip. "Are you still angry with me?" he asked after another minute, his voice so soft that Logan could barely hear it.

"I was never angry with you," Logan assured him, "But you need to tell me when you're upset, when he's bothering you, so that I can help you. Before… something like this happens again. Promise me, promise you'll let me help?"

"I promise," Warren tried to say, but his voice failed him so he nodded instead.

Gently Logan pulled away enough to give Warren a slow kiss, into which he poured as much love as he possibly could. When he pulled away Warren snuggled once more into Logan's chest.

He was happy, he was safe, he was warm, he was in the arms of the man he loved, and nothing could hurt him there.


	22. The Fun

**Hey all. So, HOLY COW, I know, I haven't updated this thing in like a million, bazillion years, I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry! I have had the WORST writer's block, this chapter REALLY did NOT want to get written. But at last, I have prevailed! Yay! And here it is! I really hope I haven't lost my wonderful readers (And REVIEWERS, wink wink) because of the long wait. I promise to try and update sooner next time. Meanwhile, huge thanks to Patricia16, spader says hobey-ho, and endiahna for reviewing! Now, on with the chapter! As always, READ, REVIEW, and ENJOY!**

Warren was kept in the hospital for several weeks. Once he was at last released, he was told to take it easy and move around as little as possible. He had lost a lot of blood, and had over a hundred stitches.

Logan wanted to get a motel room and stay where they were so that Warren could rest some more, but Warren insisted that he was fine and they'd stayed far too long already. In the end Logan relented, and packed Warren into the passenger seat with many blankets and pillows for cushioning.

Things were a bit uncomfortable for a while after that. Logan was being extra careful to pay as much attention to Warren as possible, and to give him anything and everything he could possibly want. He didn't leave Warren alone anymore either, whatever it was he had been going to do, apparently wasn't important anymore.

All of the attention of course embarrassed Warren to no end. But nevertheless, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it, at least a little. And bit-by-bit, under Logan's careful eye, Warren began to think about Scott a little less every day. The night's when Warren woke trembling in terror and clinging desperately to Logan became fewer and further in between, until finally, they stopped all together.

They spent most of the summer driving around Canada, (Why? Because they felt like it.), over the course of which, Warren, who was quite fond of that sort of thing, became fluent in French.

But as summer came to a close and the autumn winds began to blow in, they headed south again.

They stopped at a deli just over the border into Washington for lunch. It was a cool day, heavy with the promise of coming winter, and Warren was rather hyper.

"It's the cold," he explained blushing when Logan commented about it, "I always get a little more energetic when the weather turns cold."

"Oh," Logan nodded, "Like a cat."

"A cat?"

"Yeah, you know, how cats get all crazy and hyper when the weather changes," Logan explained.

"I guess." So, as they sat eating their sandwiches, Warren was fidgeting more than usual and humming slightly to himself.

Logan smiled to himself as he eyed the younger mutant. In the past several months, not only had Warren learned how to smile and speak for himself, but he was even becoming assertive enough to ask for things on his own. All of his injuries were completely healed, leaving only a few scars, and even his wings were beginning to grow back. They were growing in very slowly, and so far Warren only had little tiny sprouts with a few feathers attached, just long enough to wiggle around in a flapping like motion when he was excited.

"We should do something today," Warren said, breaking Logan was of his reverie.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, something," Warren shrugged, "Take a break from all that driving around."

"Well, we could…" Logan started slowly, trying to think of something.

"Oh, I know!" Warren injected, practically bouncing up and down in his seat, "Lets go roller skating!" He pointed to a skate shop across the street.

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, "Roller-skating?" he repeated skeptically.

"Yes," Warren nodded, "I want to go roller skating. Can we? Please, Logan, please?" And he gave Logan a look that was the very definition of puppy dog eyes, complete with exaggerated pout.

"Keep wagging your tail at me like that and I might start calling you Fido or something," Logan teased him. At that Warren attempted to glare at him, but as expected his glare face was not nearly as good as his puppy eyes. Logan grinned, and in a mock long suffering voice said, "But I suppose, if you _really_ want to…"

"Yay!" Warren practically launched himself over the table at Logan.

So, after they finished their sandwiches, Warren more or less shoving the whole thing down his throat in his rush, Logan taking his time just to tease him, they headed across the street and bought two pairs of roller skates.

Once the skates were bought, they went to the nearest park. It was a nice park, not the kind that just has some plastic play equipment, but a real park, with sidewalks crisscrossing large green lawns and lots of benches. They sat on one of the said benches to put on their skates. Logan had his on first and stood up, a little wobbly at first, but he soon steadied himself out, trying to forget about how ridiculous he felt.

Warren, however, wobbled quite a bit more when he stood up and Logan had to grab his arm to help steady him. Nevertheless, as soon as he had his balance, Warren grinned, "Ready?" he said.

Logan gave him a teasingly exaggerated look of patience and grumbled, "As I'll ever be."

Warren grinned and again and pushed off, only to promptly fall over. Logan hurried moved to help him up again and Warren regained his feet, swearing profusely. Logan had never heard language quite like _that_ out of Warren before, and he was mildly amused by it.

"Are you alright?" he asked, careful not to let his amusement at Warren's language show.

"Yeah," Warren grumbled, though he looked extremely put out. He tried again, a bit more slowly this time, and with Logan's hand to help balance him. But he was still rather unsteady.

Logan, however, seemed to be perfectly balanced, as though he'd been born on skates. "Are you sure you're alright?" Logan asked again, "You always had the best balance in class."

"It's my damn wings," Warren panted, glaring angrily at the ground as they moved slowly, "I can't balance right without them." Nevertheless, Warren insisted that he still wanted to skate, and in time he managed to get the hang of it, though he still held onto Logan's hand.

They spent the afternoon happily, joking and laughing as they skated around the park. After they got tired of skating they got some ice cream, left their skates under a bench and fooled around on the otherwise deserted play equipment.

That evening Logan decided they should take a break from their usual pizza, cafes, and fast food, and go some place nicer. So Warren made him wear the black silk shirt that the younger mutant still coveted.

Over all, it had been an especially good day. And as they settled down to bed that night Warren couldn't help but to wonder, once again, what he had done to deserve someone as amazing as Logan. He smiled to himself, snuggling in closer to Logan's chest, and kissing the hair there lightly. "I love you," he whispered drowsily.

"I love you too, kid," Logan murmured, kissing him tenderly on the top of the head. And with that Warren fell asleep. Logan, however, remained awake, gazing lovingly at the younger mutant in his arms.

Though the actual bruises had long ago faded, sometimes Logan could still almost see Warren's abused face, hear the way his breathing would hitch and he would pant in terror, the way his eyes darted about nervously. And it still burned at him how long Warren had been hurting, and he hadn't even known it, how many nights Warren had been left to shiver and cry alone with no comfort but Scott's alcoholic breathing next to him.

There had been no mention of Scott for some time now. Warren didn't seem to be dreaming about him anymore, and apparently had all but forgotten him… almost. Logan knew that Warren would likely never completely get over what Scott had done to him, but he planned on always being there to help his love as much as he could.

So with another gentle kiss on Warren's forehead, Logan settled himself down, pulling the younger mutant closer, and drifted off to sleep himself.


	23. The Swim

**So... it's been like three years, but HERE I AM! And it's probably (subconsciously) Rayne's fault. I do have the rest of the chapters to the conclusion of the story planned out, and it's probably about 7 chapters, plus a few extras ;) I really do want to finish this, theoretically within the next few weeks, so keep your fingers crossed. Read, Review,**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The next few weeks found them making their slow, meandering way south through California. They'd been traveling on roads that kept them mostly inland, so they were still several hours north of Santa Barbara when Warren first caught sight of the coast. After that, he couldn't look away.

There was almost a hunger in his eyes as he stared out of the passenger side window at the pure, white coastline. It was a look that Logan, with slight reluctance, noticed. But, he had determined to give Warren everything the boy could possibly want, so, as the late afternoon sun slanted toward the horizon, he didn't bother to ask, just turned off of the highway looking for the nearest exit to the beach.

Warren turned away from the window to blink at Logan and verify, "We're going?"

Logan didn't have to ask where. He gave Warren an offhand grin and shrugged, "Figure I could use a tan." And at that the younger mutant gave him what was quiet possibly the biggest smile ever recorded, and turned back to the window.

Soon enough they'd stopped and bought sandwiches to have for dinner on the beach and successfully managed to find a pretty much completely deserted stretch of sand, the only other people around being an elderly couple meandering away from them.

Surprisingly, Warren only faltered for a few seconds before stripping off his t-shirt and jeans and heading straight for the water. Usually it was only with great reluctance that he would go anywhere where someone other than Logan might see him without completely covering just about every inch of flesh he could, often layering. Logan understood, he was shy about his scars, and self-conscious of people looking at him, but all the same, wearing a t-shirt, sweatshirt, even a light one, and a jacket at the height of summer heat was just not a good idea.

In fact, he was so intent on getting to the water that he was halfway there before even realizing that Logan was still up by the truck. He stopped, turning back uncertainly.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, his pout mild, more curious.

Logan shook his head. "I'm not a big fan of sand. You go ahead, kid, have fun."

Warren didn't move, his pout becoming more pronounced, and his confidence waning. He'd been learning to become a lot more comfortable with himself and others, but only as long as Logan was there to hold his hand (usually literally). "We can go if you want," he offered, trying to sound like he didn't really care.

By this point Logan had gotten to know Warren well enough that the younger mutant pretty much never got away with a lie, even when he was working hard at it. Logan definitely wasn't going to let this one slide. He pulled Warren close to him, kissing him gently for a moment, "Go," he encouraged, "I'll be right here watching. Have fun."

Warren hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded and started out once more towards the glistening water. Halfway he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. Logan smiled and waved, completely missing the sudden wicked grin that appeared on Warren's no longer pouting face.

*8*

Logan leaned comfortably against the low wall separating the sand from the parking lot, completely relaxed as he watched Warren frolic in the water. Yes, frolic.

He was weaving in and out of the waves happily, smiling and laughing to himself a little. His lean but, thanks to Logan's overly attentive care, no longer skeletal, body glistening in the pink-tinged rays of the dying sun, his tiny budding wings flapping and wiggling to express his enthusiasm. It was, although Logan would probably rather be locked in a room with Storm for a week than admit it to any one but Warren, probably the cutest thing he'd ever witnessed. Maybe he was biased, but he doubted it.

And as he watched Warren he couldn't help but smile. Strange, it didn't feel weird anymore, smiling. He couldn't remember ever doing it very often before he'd met the winged mutant. There was just something so innocent, so inexplicably pure about the boy, he didn't understand how he'd even managed to function before, how it was possible that there had ever even been a before.

Suddenly he was jolted out of his musings, and it took him several seconds to figure out why. He scanned the area, now completely deserted but for Warren and himself, then he noticed. Warren's soft laughter, the occasional comment he'd called to Logan; all was silent now. Desperately Logan's eyes scanned area for any sign of his love. All of point two seconds later Logan was pelting head long down the beach towards the water, shouting Warren's name. He wasn't even consciously aware of shedding his shoes, socks, and shirt as he ran, slamming straight into the chilly water, still yelling.

He wadded until he was chest deep, about how far out Warren had been. There was no sign of the younger mutant, not even a stray feather.

"Warren!" he shouted, panic welling in his chest, "Warren!" Suddenly he couldn't breathe, his heart constricting so tightly in his chest that it felt like it might implode. Adrenaline was pumping through him so fast his hands shook and his vision blurred.

"Warren!" Just when he thought he might pass out from hyperventilation there was a splash behind him and thin, beautiful arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders.

A soft giggle sounded in his ear as wet lips pressed a kiss to his cheek, "Got'cha."

Logan whirled on the younger mutant, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him without really being aware of it. "Don't ever do that to me again!" he shouted, fear still roaring in his ears and his chest still aching at the perceived loss.

Warren froze, face paling and eyes widening as tears automatically filled them. He blinked against them and none fell, but his voice still shook when he spoke. "I'm s-sorry," he stammered, trembling a little.

As soon as he saw the fear on Warren's face Logan's own anger vanished, replaced by remorse and indescribable relief. He hugged Warren tight to his chest, burying his face in the younger mutant's hair. "Don't scare me like that," he admonished more gently, letting his tone and grip express his terror and love.

"I d-didn't m-mean to," Warren sniffled, pressing his face into Logan's chest and clinging to him, "I j-just wanted you to c-come play with me."

"Don't do it again."

"I p-promise."

They stayed like that for a long time, letting the waves ebb and flow around them as the sun set and the moon rose to glint silver off of the water.

Eventually Warren started to shiver as the temperature dropped and Logan ushered him out of the water. Pulling a couple blankets out of the truck he spread one out on the sand for them to lie on. The other he wrapped firmly around them once Warren was settled resting against his chest.

Warren sighed in soft contentment as he lay snuggled into the warmth of the blanket and Logan's body, absently playing with Logan's chest hair. Logan kissed his head, his thumb tracing random patterns on Warren's hip.

"I missed the beach," Warren said softly, almost as though he was talking to himself. His eyes were on starry sky and his expression was distant. "We used to go every summer when I was a kid, before my mom died."

Logan raised his head to better see Warren's face. Warren rarely spoke about his past, with Scott or before it; his family was not a happy subject. But if he was in an uncharacteristically sharing mood tonight, Logan certainly wasn't going to discourage him, so he stayed quiet and listened.

"Usually it was just the two of us; dad would say he had to work. We had a condo right on the sand practically. It was white, with green shutters, and my mom planted rose bushes all the way around it. They were her favorite, roses, but not red ones, white and yellow were the ones she liked."

Logan kissed his forehead as Warren's voice got softer and sadder.

"It was sort of like own secret club house or something, since dad rarely went there. It was ours. But after she died dad sold the condo and I haven't been to the beach since." He said the last part a little quickly, like he wanted to get it over with.

Logan didn't know what to say, so he showered Warren's face in gentle, lazy kisses and held him closer. "I love you, Warren," he said, letting his voice show his sincerity.

Warren smiled. "I love you too," he murmured back, his body relaxing and his voice getting drowsy. Logan knew it wouldn't be long before he fell asleep.

Logan lay, watching Warren's peaceful face by the light of the moon, listening to the crash of the waves and the occasional call of a gull, and smiled. He knew exactly what to do.


End file.
